How To Lose A Guy In 21 Days
by WinButler
Summary: Arthur realises he's made a big mistake breaking up with Alfred when he sees him with someone else. Desperate, he enlists France's help to break up the happy new couple and win his boyfriend back... Eventual RusUS, FrUK. Now with post-fic apology!
1. Chapter 1

Warnings: There may well be sexual content later on. There will be bad language throughout, mainly courtesy of Arthur.

A/N: I apologise for the shortness and possible boringness of this first chapter, it's really to set the scene.

If any of you read All's Fair you probably know I like my fics about plotting and playing relationship games. This fic is going to have similar themes, only of course different plot and different couples. And probably less good.

Chapter one – The Break-up

"Arrrgh! Fine! Take this, you stupid limey!"

SMASH.

Alfred F. Jones was not happy. Partly because his cell phone was now in pieces on the floor, having been thrown violently at the wall, but mainly because his so-called _boyfriend _was most certainly not acting the part. In any way, shape or form.

Matthew sighed. It had been a long week, and looked to be getting longer if the shattered iPhone was anything to go by. Alfred had been forcibly ejected from Arthur's house when the Englishman realised he actually had work to do, and staying in his bedroom with Alfred all week, usually naked, did not count as work. Alfred, needless to say, had not taken this well, and had been shacked up with Canada for the past five days, irritating the hell out of him.

Canada, of course, was too nice to say anything, but frankly, was getting desperate. Even Francis, at this point, would be preferable.

Well. Canada knew how to handle these things diplomatically. And Alfred was his brother. He would have no trouble fixing this.

"What has he done now?" asked Matthew carefully, sidling over to where Alfred stood with folded arms, glaring at the cell phone.

"Hasn't returned any of my calls. Ignored me all week. Made excuses not to see me. Honestly, I think he'd rather do his stupid work than do me!"

Matthew internally winced. Not that he didn't love both of them, but the idea of his brother and Arthur doing..._that, _well, it didn't sit well. "Maybe you should give him a little space. Or maybe you could consider going back to your own country for a while?" asked Matthew hopefully. "I mean, don't take this the wrong way, but England's working so hard because there's a conference in three weeks. Perhaps you should consider doing a little preparation as well....I mean, not that you don't work hard!" stuttered Matthew, quivering under Alfred's glare, "but all I'm saying is, you _are _the United States of America. You can't show up empty handed."

Alfred calmed a little. Maybe Matthew was right. Maybe he did need to go back south, to his own country, and do a little work. It would take his mind off Arthur. Arthur, who was ignoring him and choosing his work over his boyfriend, and generally being a pain in the –

"So? What do you think?"

Alfred shrugged. "I'll think about it."

------------------------

Arthur was not having a much better time. Work was not being done. In fact, all that he seemed to be accomplishing was turning over his relationship with Alfred in his mind over, and over, and over again.

France wasn't helping.

"_Mon ami, _perhaps you should consider talking to him. I appreciate that talking, for the two of you, largely consists of glaring at each other until one of you decides to jump the other, but maybe you should go to visit America and tell him your feelings outright."

Arthur glared at France. He had been pissing him off ever since Alfred left, constantly pestering him, leering at him, and doing all manner of strange things. Arthur thought France was probably bored. He had no friends to cause trouble with, since Spain was always with Romano and Prussia was, as far as Arthur knew, attempting to persuade Hungary to dump her boyfriend in favour of him. So France had decided to cause trouble at Arthur's house. Which Arthur was not in the least bit happy about, especially since he had a lot of work to be getting on with. It was all right for France, who was no longer in a recession (damn frog....) but Arthur was tired and busy.

"I already told you, Francis, I'm not going over there just to hash out the same old stuff. It's a waste of bloody time. He and I need a break from each other. We need a distraction from each other."

Francis grinned lecherously at Arthur at these words. "A distraction which I would be only too happy to provide, _mon cheri_......"

"Bugger off, France, I'm not in the mood. Can't you go torment someone else for once?"

"And here I thought you and I were such good friends."

"Did you? Sounds like you need some sense knocking into you. Why don't you go piss off Russia and see how many teeth you have left by the end of it?"

France pouted. "My dearest _Angleterre, _I assure you, I have no desire to take a beating of that magnitude. I am simply trying to give you some advice. It is the truth to say that since Alfred has been gone, you have accomplished nothing, non? You have just been sitting around, pretending to work, when all the while you are thinking of Alfred. Then why not tell him your thoughts? A romantic relationship, it cannot be simply based on sex. Of course," he hastily added, seeing Arthur's look of astonishment, "sex is a most valuable part of the relationship, but also, you must have trust and mutual respect for one another. At least, this is what Germany tells me. He has been watching the talk show....what is it called? Oprah? Yes, that is it. So if you have thoughts in your head, and I am sure I would be most surprised if you did, you must tell Alfred. A couple must have more in common than simply a general feeling that they _ought _to be together. That is not a solid basis for a relationship."

Arthur was stunned. Not only was France actually speaking seriously, he was actually making sense. Perhaps there had been some kind of mix-up. Perhaps France had eaten something funny.

"Well. All right. I'll go to America. I'll...._talk _to him."

"Success, _mon ami! _I wish you a good trip. Oh, and while you are there, tell my dear Mathieu to give me a call, will you?"

"I bloody well will not, you keep your perverted hands off him." Scowled Arthur.

-------------------------

Several hours later, Arthur was knocking on Matthew's door, nervous about what was to come, but knowing at the same time, that, unlikely as it was, France had been right, he needed to do something about this now.

Alfred swung the door open with his usual perkiness, but soured upon seeing it was Arthur. "What is it? I thought you wanted me out of the way for a while?"

"We need to talk, Al, seriously. Can I come in?"

Alfred narrowed his eyes, but let his boyfriend inside.

"Hey Matt, think you could give us a minute?" He asked as they went into the lounge, upon seeing his brother absentmindedly rearranging furniture.

"Sure." Said Canada. "Nice to see you, Arthur." _You don't know how nice, _he thought to himself as he walked out of the room, hoping, praying to any deity listening that Arthur would make Alfred leave with him.

Alfred motioned Arthur to sit down. "So what's up?"

"Well. I've been sort of thinking about everything. I mean, you and me, and us. And, er, well. I think we have some relationship problems, Alfred. Sort of...serious ones."

"That can be resolved, right?" grinned Alfred.

"I don't know. Half the time I don't even know why we're still together, Al. All we do is argue, and then...you know. Make up. We never talk about our feelings."

"I thought you were the one that didn't wanna talk about feelings. I always try but you never tell me what you're thinking. This isn't fair. You blame me for everything." Alfred stomped his foot.

"This is what I mean. You fly off the handle at every little thing."

"You're the argumentative one! You always yell at me, and tell me I'm an idiot, and start ignoring me for no good reason!" Alfred shouted.

"This is what I'm talking about! You act like a child! I try to have a serious conversation with you and it turns into non-stop arguments, because you have the mentality of a five-year-old. I'm trying to tell you something important and you're making it into amateur dramatics."

Alfred folded his arms sulkily. "Fine. Tell me what it is."

Arthur sighed. "What it is is....I think we should break up."

There was a dumb silence for a good minute. Alfred's first instinct was to laugh, since Arthur could not possibly be serious, but the pained expression on his face told Alfred that he was, as much as he would not like to believe it.

"What? I don't....understand. Why would you want to break up with me?"

"Because. It's not working anymore, Alfred, you know it isn't. It was nice in the beginning, when it was all flowers and candy and gondola rides, but when it comes down to it, you and I have nothing in common. You like going out. I like staying in. You like rap. I like rock. You like cheeseburgers. I like scones and tea. You like television. I like reading."

"You're dumping me because of my taste in music and the fact that I like cheeseburgers?" asked Alfred incredulously.

"It's more than that. I can't think of a single thing that you and I share in common. We never have anything to talk about, other than reminiscing about a time you were barely old enough to remember. It's all very well to say that you think we should be together. But there has to be a good reason. Otherwise the relationship makes no sense."

Arthur winced at the sight of Alfred, who was now in tears. "But – I – I – Arthur...." he managed to get out as he burst into fresh floods of tears.

"Alfred, please don't. I hope you don't think this has been easy."

"Looked pretty easy from where I'm sitting! How could you break up with me? I'm a _hero._"

"Look....you'll find somebody else. We both will. Look, stop that crying. I'm not doing this because I don't love you. I'm doing because it's what best for both of us. Look, we should at least take a break until after the conference. Maybe we can talk about it then. But the fact of the matter is, I'm too busy to entertain thoughts of a romantic relationship right now, and frankly, so should you be. "

"Get out."

"I'm sorry?"

"England, get out of my house! NOW." Alfred still had tear-stains on his pink cheeks, but looked deadly serious. "GET OUT NOW!"

"I – all right, all right, I'm going. Look, Al, I'm sorry, I don't - I didn't think - "

"Goodbye, England. I'm going home tomorrow morning. I'll see you at the conference." Said Alfred with as much composure as he could muster as he hurried England out of the door and out of his life. He slammed the door behind him.

He didn't feel much like a hero that night. Heroes didn't cry themselves to sleep.

END CHAPTER ONE

A/N: I broke up the golden couple. *looks guilty* Arthur will come to his senses soon....probably. Silly Arthur. I don't really believe any of the nonsense reasons Arthur gave for breaking up with Alfred, either, to be honest. I just needed them broken up.


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: You all rock. A lot. Thanks to all reviewers/commenters. :D

Chapter Two – The New Boyfriend

Alfred, true to his word, bade Canada a hurried goodbye and left his house the very next day. It was a good thing he had to leave. He could use to get some work done, sure, and his house was probably a tip after leaving it for a week, with Tony in there doing God knows what. Of course, the real reason was that he could not stand Canada seeing him unhappy, as he knew that this would make Canada unhappy, and this was something that Alfred would not accept. His brother was sensitive and caring in a way that he himself could not hope to be, and he was not going to see him suffer. He had told Canada that he and Arthur had argued, but not that they had ended their relationship. _Because Arthur decided to end four years of being happy and in love on some stupid whim, _thought Alfred with a scowl. _What's so special about this dumbass conference anyway? It's only at Austria's house. He'll probably just make us eat cake and listen to him playing piano. _

Well. Alfred was not going to let thoughts of Arthur (and his _betrayal_) pervade his everyday existence any longer! Arthur Kirkland was no longer important to him. If Arthur could forget all those times they laughed, cried, and loved one another so easily, then so could he.

He dragged his suitcase out of the car and pulled it up the driveway. He was glad to be back home in a way. He expected Tony had been out of his mind with worry. He wouldn't put it past him to put a price on England's head when he heard about this. He probably had alien bounty hunter friends.

What Alfred was not expecting was the figure, the all-too familiar figure that was standing on his doorstep, evidently awaiting his arrival.

"What are _you _doing here?"

-------------------------------------------

"So. You didn't finish signing the reports, did you?"

"No." Arthur retorted sulkily. France was here, in his office, yet again. And once more, he was pissing him off.

"_Angleterre, _if you do not tell me what is the matter, what can I do about it?"

Arthur looked like he was ready to punch Francis. "And what exactly would I want you to do about it?" he hissed. "Why are you even here? Get lost. You've been driving me mad for days."

"You hurt me, Arthur. For what reasons would I be here other than to help you?"

"Because you're a sadistic bastard who wants to see me in as much pain as possible. I know you like tormenting me, France, don't bother pretending otherwise. Now either piss off or stop talking, I've got work to do."

"Yes, and are you going to do it, or are you already regretting your decision, _mon cheri_?"

The paperweight missed him by centimetres.

"Get the fuck out, you wanker! Get out now!" screeched Arthur. "This is all your fucking fault, you know! "_A relationship must be built on trust and mutual respect."_" He mocked in his most scathing tones. " _"You need to tell him how you feel". _You've fucked everything up!"

Francis sighed. "It was your decision to break his heart. Do not tell me you have changed your mind already? Ah, you English, you are all the same. If you want him back, Arthur, go and claim him back."

Arthur sat down, calmed a little, although still extremely annoyed. "I can't go back. I'd look like an idiot."

"I can see why your relationships never last." Remarked France dryly. "You seem to be more concerned with looking like an idiot than expressing your true feelings. Most pitiable. The Englishman, he cares nothing for _l'amour! _"

"Shut up. You aren't helping."

"I'm giving you advice."

"The last time you gave me advice, I ended up breaking up with Alfred. What was I thinking? I must have been on crack. You must have bewitched me somehow."

France pouted. "Alas, if only I could have such an effect on you, Arthur, _mon ange._"

"And stop with the constant perverted comments. It gets tiring. So what are you suggesting exactly, that I go back to America and beg for his forgiveness on bended knee? I can't. I just can't."

"You are being so dramatic. Alfred, he has rubbed off on you. All I suggest is that you admit you made a mistake. There is hope for your relationship yet, I am sure of it."

"I-I could do that."

"_Precisement. _It is not difficult."

"I can't believe I'm going back there literally one day after I came back. I'm going to be so bloody jet-lagged. I also can't believe I'm taking your advice."

----------------------------------------------

Meanwhile, several hundred miles away, a bespectacled man was becoming more and more flustered as he was frantically flicking through cookbooks.

"What are you doing, pansy?" said a familiar (unfortunately) voice from the doorway.

Austria sighed and pushed up his glasses to see, surprise suprise, Prussia standing at his bedroom door, grinning stupidly at him with those creepy red eyes.

"I am deciding what to serve at the conference. What do you want? I'm very busy."

"Contrary to popular opinion, chocolate cake is not the most awesome thing in the world."

Austria sighed. "And I suppose you think you are?"

"Of course!" grinned Prussia. "What else? So, where's the girlfriend? Or have you realised you're completely gay yet?"

"Elizaveta is...out."

"Out?"

"She is out with her camera. She has received intelligence that Antonio and Lovino are dining together and intends to...well. You know what she's like. Now please, Gilbert. I'm very busy. Unless you're going to help me, please go away."

Gilbert responded to this by carefully shutting the bedroom door behind him and advancing towards his long-time rival. "Oh, I'll _help _you all right..."

------------------------------

Arthur twiddled his thumbs nervously as his taxi drew closer to Alfred's house. It was almost six o'clock in the morning, almost a day and a half since he had broken up with Alfred, and here he was, back to ask...forgiveness. Not his strong suit. What if Alfred wouldn't take him back? What if he was so angry with him he refused to get back together? Even worse, what if he was over him already? What if he didn't care anymore?

Admittedly, Arthur thought all of these theories highly unlikely. All would be well. He and Alfred would be back together, and life would go back to normal. No problem.

-----------------------------

"Nuh uh, _you _hang up first!"

"Um, all right."

"No, wait!" Poland pouted. Liet was utterly and completely useless at this game. "You're, like, supposed to say "no, _you _hang up first!""

"I don't understand. Is this some kind of game?"

"Oh, Liet. You're so cute. So, like, we are rooming together at the thing at Austria's place, right? Because I totally don't want you to end up with that creeper. You know who I mean."

Toris sighed. Feliks' jealousy was rather adorable, he had to admit, even though technically the two of them weren't even dating.

"I have already spoken to Roderich about this."

"Ooh, what'd he say?"

"That if I ever called him at home again he'd set Prussia on me. I think he's a little bit stressed at the moment."

"Well, I totally would be as well. Having to cater for all the nations for four whole days? I'd be, like, totally buggin'. Soooo....can you talk for much longer, Liet? Or is _he _around to be mean to you?"

"Actually, I have no idea where he is, he went out yesterday and hasn't come back. Latvia and Estonia are playing snap together. Do you-maybe, I mean, if you're not too busy, that is...Do you want to come over?"

Feliks giggled. "Of course I do! I'll be there in like two hours, 'kay?"

------------------------------

The taxi stopped. Arthur paid the driver and stumbled out of the cab. Shaking slightly, he rang the doorbell.

His breath caught in his throat when he saw a shadow approach the door.

And it stayed there when the door swung open.

The figure at the door was not Alfred. He was tall, imposing, his hair was ruffled and his lips swollen, and he had several love bites on his neck. He was clad only in his boxer shorts and Alfred's slightly-too-small dressing gown.

"Da? May we help you?"

---------------------

END CHAPTER TWO

A/N: Not at all sorry. I love this couple :D

Also, I really will try to stick to human names. The thing is, I like to use the country names when I'm talking about them in the third person, and the human names when they are addressing each other. But I appreciate that it's irritating. I will try harder. Next chapter. Also, sorry for short chapters. They're probably all going to be quite short, but updated reasonably regularly. Expect the next one in a few days.


	3. Chapter 3

A/N: This...is the first thing even resembling sex I have ever written, ever. Please be nice. :D

Chapter Three – Last Night

"_What are _you _doing here?"_

"_Well, dear little Matvei, he has spoken to me several times over the past few days."_

_Alfred was flabbergasted. Matthew, his brother, was talking to Ivan? Why? What could Matt possibly have to say to this....this weirdo? _

"_Explain yourself. Why have you been talking to my brother? What have you done to him?"_

_Ivan chuckled. Alfred never failed to be creeped out by Ivan, but this was different. _Why _was he here?_

"_Your brother, he is a little stressed at the moment, da? And he cannot talk to Francis. That man does nothing but try to seduce the poor boy. Sometimes, your brother needs someone else to talk to."_

_Alfred folded his arms. It was bad enough that Ivan just showed up on his doorstep to torment him, and not exactly at the best time, either, but now he was implying that he and Matt were...._

"_What did he say to you? What do you want with him? With me?"_

"_I want nothing with him. He is merely a friend. A companion. Someone to speak to who is not completely without sense. He called me to tell me what had happened between you and Arthur. He overheard you talking, you see. I came by to...to see how you were."_

_Alfred's jaw dropped. He stared at Ivan as if he was trying to catch flies, eyes widened. "You came by to see how I am?" he asked incredulously. "You must be joking."_

"_I do not joke, comrade Alfred."_

_Alfred did not know what possessed him at that moment. But the next thing he knew he was inviting Ivan Braginsky into his home. He put it down to his fragile mental state. _

"_Do you want something? I don't have any vodka, I'm afraid, but I have coffee."_

_Ivan shook his head. "No, I will be fine. I need nothing to drink. Sit. Talk to me."_

_They both sat down on Alfred's couch. Alfred lit the fire, it being a cold night, the snow battering against the window._

"_This is really weird." Said Alfred. "I thought we hated each other. And now you're here to do what, exactly? Comfort me? Forgive me if I'm kinda confused."_

"_Old wounds, Alfred. They do close. Eventually. Now, tell me the trouble. It is Arthur, yes?"_

"_Yeah." Muttered Alfred. "He broke up with me. I don't even get why. It's so stupid. I thought he was happy, but apparently he was pretending the whole time."_

"_Nonsense. This is not true. He has loved you for many years."_

_Alfred snorted. "Well, if he's been in love with me, I don't see how he could just fall out of love with me so fast. I hate him."_

"_No, you don't."_

"_No, I don't. I...I love him so much," Alfred could feel the tears welling up again. He would not cry in front of Ivan. He would NOT. _

_He expected Ivan to maintain an awkward silence, to perhaps shuffle out of the room quietly, to leave Alfred alone with his grief. What he did not expect was for Ivan to put an arm around him. For Ivan to pull him into a slightly awkward, but very real, hug. He was being hugged by his former enemy, with whom he had had so much antagonism. The man he had hated, had held in so much contempt. Was it possible that Ivan was no longer "that damn communist" but a friend?_

_Alfred neither knew nor cared. But the tears were flowing freely now, seeping into the material of Ivan's scarf, his hands fisted in Ivan's coat, Ivan's big, strong fingers laced in the strands of his hair. Ivan pulled him closer, closer, and he felt the man's heart, which he had thought must have fallen out a good many years ago, beating against his own shaking body. _

_He was mad. He had no idea what he was doing. He barely recognised himself at that moment as he threw his arms around Ivan's neck and moved even closer to sit on his lap, legs around his waist, pulling him in tighter. Ivan responded accordingly, pressing a soft kiss to his temple, hands still stroking Alfred's hair, Alfred's own arms tight around Ivan. _

_Alfred brought his face up, which had been buried in Ivan's soft scarf, his eyes red, the tears still coming, glistening on his pink cheeks. Ivan and Alfred did nothing but stare at each other for what felt like an eternity, before Ivan moved. This was nothing like what they had had before. The hatred, the antagonism, the snarky, biting insults, they were all gone. Somehow. But Ivan was pulling Alfred closer, kissing the tears forming under his left eye, kissing downwards, on to his cheek, even lower, until the corners of their mouths brushed. Alfred could not help but let out a gasp. He felt suddenly self-conscious, as though this moment was so intimate he did not want anyone looking in, seeing what was happening, even himself. This self-awareness was short-lived, however, as he became very aware that Ivan was kissing him, full on the lips, softly at first, then harder, his lips pressing firmly against Alfred's (when did his lips get so soft?). Alfred felt himself respond, opened his mouth to allow Ivan's tongue to roam freely, his hands still around him, caressing his neck, his hair, just as Ivan's tongue caressed his own. He brought his lips together slightly to suck gently on Ivan's lower lip, eliciting a small gasp from Ivan. _

_He moved his head downwards, pushed the scarf aside (Ivan did not even protest, not once, at this) to kiss his neck, to suck gently on his collarbone. Ivan's hands were all over Alfred, pushing his shirt upwards to touch soft, warm flesh with cold, rough hands. He tentatively moved his hands up, teasingly brushing the sensitive flesh of his stomach until he reached a nipple, tweaking it between his fingers, causing Alfred to moan softly into the crook of his neck. _

_The fire crackled. Alfred stood. There were still tears stained on his cheeks. Ivan had never seen the hero look so vulnerable._

_He knew he was taking advantage of Alfred, he knew that well. He knew this was not what was best for Alfred, that he needed a shoulder to cry on. But at the same time, he wanted Alfred. Quite badly, actually, badly enough that he was able to push all other thoughts out of his mind as Alfred slipped off his shirt and jeans, discarding them into an untidy pile by the fire, and unbuttoning Ivan's coat and pushing it off him before settling back down into his lap, his warm body flush against Ivan's, Ivan's dress shirt not nearly enough to prevent him from feeling Alfred's warmth seep through to his perpetually cold body. _

_Their kisses grew more intense, more feverish, and Ivan found that Alfred had ridded him of his shirt without him even noticing. He ran his hands all over Ivan's torso, his tongue quickly following suit, kissing lower, lower..._

_Ivan unashamedly moaned at Alfred's ministrations, oh god, surely it had never been this good before, surely not even China, not even Lith – he would not think of him. He banished the thoughts from his mind as quickly as they had come. For after all, it was Alfred kissing him now, Alfred's wandering hands. Alfred shifted slightly on Ivan's lap and Ivan could not help but notice that Alfred was painfully hard. And, truth be told, he was getting to be the same way. Ivan ran his hand up Alfred's toned, supple thighs, finally reaching the waistband of his boxers before realising abruptly that he himself was wearing far too much clothing._

"_Alfred...." he muttered. "Let me..take my pants off."_

_Alfred shifted off Ivan's lap, but this time, he did not stand up. Instead, he lay back on the couch next to Ivan, his legs spread invitingly, his face flushed, his expression wanton and needy. Ivan gulped. This was even better than he had ever imagined. He rid himself of his pesky trousers and lay on top of Alfred, settling himself between his thighs, rubbing up against him, and – oh god, that felt good, and – kissing him roughly, his tongue everywhere. Alfred's moans were becoming louder and more desperate, and he was having trouble restraining himself from crying out in pleasure. This was really going to happen. _

_The look in Ivan's eyes was questioning. Alfred knew what he was asking. A million and one thoughts flashed through Alfred's mind in mere seconds, Matthew's pained face, the disapproving voices of dozens of nations, the face of Lithuania, so confused, so heartbroken, Arthur's look of distaste, Arthur, Arthur's face flashing in his mind as clear as day, and yet....he nodded imperceptibly, Ivan picking up on it and taking this as affirmation that, yes, this _was _going to happen. _

_It was not as rough as Alfred was expecting. Ivan had the capability of being remarkably gentle when he wanted to be. Alfred knew he was treating him as though he was a porcelain doll, that he could shatter at any moment, that he was not in the right place for anything other than kind, reassuring, comfort sex. Alfred was a little surprised. He would not have guessed that Ivan cared about something like that. _

_Alfred's breath picked up a little, his eyelids fluttering open and closed as he wrapped his legs (long since devoid of their underwear) around Ivan's waist, drawing him in closer, deeper as Ivan pressed his face against Alfred's, sucking on his earlobe as he continued to carefully thrust in. Ivan could tell Alfred was close as his heels dug into Ivan's back, his fingernails scratching his neck, his breath becoming fast and heavy. Another well-angled thrust and it was over, Ivan relaxing his tensed body, collapsing on to Alfred's spent one. _

_They lay there for what felt like hours, holding each other's naked bodies, whispering words of comfort and reassurance into each other's ears. Alfred hurt all over. _

_That had been something else. That was more than pity sex. He had found someone that understood. _

-----------------------------------------

_They went upstairs after a lapse of perhaps an hour. They slept, both of them in Alfred's king size bed, clad in their underwear. Alfred slept with his head resting on Ivan's chest, slowly rising and falling with Ivan's breaths. _

_They lay there undisturbed, with so many questions still hanging in the air unanswered, until at approximately five minutes past six in the morning, the doorbell rung. _

"_Ivan....can you get the door?"_

END CHAPTER THREE

A/N: Argh. I don't know how happy I am with this. Russia/US sex is supposed to be all angsty and hatesex-y, and I feel like this is way too romantic. Moo.


	4. Chapter 4

A/N: Why did I write this story? I'm so conflicted.

LOVE you all for your reviews though. XD

Chapter 4 – The Plan

"What the bloody hell are you doing here?" asked Arthur in his most dangerous voice. Ivan Braginsky was standing on Alfred's doorstep. In Alfred's dressing gown.

"Me? I was just here to comfort Alfred. After you broke his heart, you see?"

Arthur was seething with rage. "So...you....you took advantage of - "

"Hey." Arthur was interrupted by a voice coming from the corridor that he recognised with horror as Alfred's. The American was looking adorably ruffled, his blond hair scruffy and glasses askew. He, too, was deplorably underdressed. He came towards the door, not seeing Arthur behind Ivan's imposing figure, and wrapped an arm around Ivan, slipping a hand underneath the robe.

"Hey babe, who is it – oh. Arthur. It's just you." Said Alfred, registering exactly who it was stood at his doorstep.

Arthur had no words. Alfred had not only gotten over him in one day. He had done so by sleeping with..._him! _

"Alfred." Began Arthur. "I am having a lot of trouble understanding this situation, so, please enlighten me. Did you, or did you not shag this bastard?"

"I fail to see how it's any of your business, _England, _since you broke up with me two days ago." Replied Alfred coldly. Arthur had never heard that tone in Alfred's usually pleasant voice before. At least, not for two hundred years or so.

"So you're telling me you're completely over me now, then?"

Alfred shrugged. "Pretty much. I mean, Arthur, I've been thinking it over, and you were right. We were no good together. We had nothing in common. We're much better off as friends."

_Lies. All lies. _But Alfred could not let Arthur know how much he missed him. How much it was killing him to see the expression on Arthur's face right now.

"Right. So you and Ivan?" Arthur had no problems whatever talking about Ivan as though he was not there.

"He and I are going to give this thing a try. I mean, date each other. I mean, obviously it's early days yet, but we really like each other."

Ivan was looking utterly bemused. "And when exactly did we decide this, Alfred?"

Alfred looked hurt. "You don't want to?"

"Oh, no...I want to."

Alfred turned his attention back to Arthur, who looked as though he was about to burst into tears, but was forcibly restraining himself from doing so.

"Look, Arthur. Ivan and I have some stuff to discuss this morning, so do you mind...um, I don't know, going away?"

Arthur did not say one word. He turned around and walked away, careful to shield his face from Ivan and Alfred as the tears spilled out of his eyes. He broke into a run when he heard the door shut behind him.

--------------------------------------

"Oh my god, get out!"

"Ow...."

Elizaveta scowled. Gilbert Weillschmidt was in her house. What was he doing in her house? What did she have to do to get him to realise she wasn't interested? That she only had eyes for her boyfriend, Roderich? Gilbert had spent weeks trying to convince Elizaveta to dump Roderich and go out with him instead, but to no avail. He told her constantly how much of a pansy Roderich was and how much more awesome he was. A girl like her shouldn't be with a wimp like him, Gilbert argued.

Elizaveta thought Gilbert was an idiot. A hot idiot, but an idiot nonetheless. She didn't want a man who thought he was God's gift to women on earth, she wanted a man she could look after, a man she could boss around. She had always thought Roderich was absolutely adorable, with his uptight, haughty demeanour and his glasses and untidy hair, and complete inability to dominate her in any way. The two had remained on good terms after their unpleasant divorce, and had recently decided to rekindle their relationship. Gilbert, needless to say, had been less than happy. The man spent practically all his time at Austria's house, infuriating him endlessly. Elizaveta could not remember the last time she had come to visit her boyfriend and Gilbert had not been hanging around.

"Gilbert, go away! I want to hang out with Roderich."

Gilbert sat up (having been knocked to the floor by the force of Hungary's frying pan) and crossed his legs. "Come on, Eliza. How many times have I told you to dump this assclown? I'm like, eighteen times as awesome as he is, maybe more."

"Unless you want me to knock you out with this frying pan and drag your unconscious body outside, and leave you on the street, maybe you wanna get up and get the hell out of this house!" Elizaveta gave Gilbert her best glare.

Gilbert, feeling that Elizaveta would probably make good on her threat, accepted that it was time to leave. Elizaveta manhandled him the entire way out, practically shoving him out of the front door. He was almost to the gate when he heard a voice coming up behind him.

"Gilbert, wait."

-------------------------------------

The door creaked. The man crept slowly into the bedroom, not expecting to find anyone there. He saw a man, huddled under his duvet, quietly crying to himself. A pang in his chest told him that Arthur had not successfully rekindled his relationship with Alfred.

"Arthur, oh Arthur, _mon ange..._" he whispered, settling himself on the duvet and wrapping an arm around the huddled figure that was Arthur.

Arthur froze.

"WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING IN MY BEDROOM, SEX PEST!"

Before Francis knew it, he was on the floor, a very angry Englishman standing over him.

"Get out!"

Francis shook his head. "Arthur, please, just tell me what happened. I want to try to fix it."

Arthur stamped his foot. "What can you possibly think you can fix, you lousy fucking frog, this is all your fault! Why did you tell me to break up with Al?"

Francis did not have time to remind Arthur that had in fact advised no such thing before Arthur was off on his tirade.

"You've screwed everything up! Alfred's with someone else now, and I'm going to be alone FOREVER! I hate you, Francis Bonnefoy. So very, very much."

"Arthur. You don't mean that." Said Francis, getting to his feet. "I know we've had our differences in the past, but you do not hate me. And I do not hate you. And...perhaps I can help. Sit." Said Francis, pointing to the bed. Arthur, calming a little, reluctantly did so.

"Now. Alfred is with someone else? Who?"

Arthur scowled and folded his arms. "Ivan. Ivan motherfucking Braginsky. Twat."

Francis raised an eyebrow. "Alfred is sleeping with Ivan? Interesting."

"It's not interesting at all." Snapped Arthur. "In fact, it's the exact opposite of interesting, and we're no longer discussing this. Get out of my bedroom."

"_Non. _We are going to fix this."

Arthur looked up. "Fix it? Fix it how? What can we possibly do to fix it?"

"Simple. We are going to break up Alfred and Ivan. It should not be a problem, it should take less than a week. We shall have it done well in advance of the conference at dear Roderich's house, which takes place in 15 days, am I correct?"

Arthur grudgingly nodded.

"Now. All you need to do is follow my precise instructions, and you shall have your boyfriend back. You comprehend, _oui?_"

Arthur did not look happy. "You can really break them up?"

"We shall have to work together, _mon ami, _but yes, they shall be broken up. It shall not be difficult. Do you honestly think any relationship between Alfred and Ivan is likely to be built on trust? Yes, we shall destroy any faith they have in each other. It will be fun."

"You've done this sort of thing before, haven't you?" asked Arthur suspiciously.

"Perhaps. Now, I can only assume Ivan is staying with Alfred at his home until the conference?"

"Yeah, I suppose so."

"Well, then, we must go there. Yes, Arthur, we must," he insisted upon seeing the look on Arthur's face, "for how shall we accomplish our scheme otherwise? Now is not the time to make the difficulties. We are going to America. Tonight!"

---------------------------

"So, like, do you even know where he's gone?"

Lithuania nodded. "He called this morning. He's at America's house."

Feliks looked up from his magazine, which he was flipping through while lying on Toris' bed, while Toris himself was attempting to tidy. "For real? Why would he go stay there?"

"I am under the impression," Toris began laboriously, "that he and Alfred have entered into some kind of romantic relationship. At least, that's the impression I got on the phone. He just said that he was at Alfred's, and he was going to be staying there for a little while. He asked me to look after the house and keep Raivis out of trouble. Well, that should be no problem, Eduard will do that. What I don't understand is how Ivan and Alfred can be together when Alfred and Arthur are seeing each other. Not that Ivan has ever been particularly scrupulous about getting what he wants", continued Toris with a touch of bitterness, "but I can't see Alfred cheating on Arthur."

Feliks was gaping. "This is, like, totally ridonkulous news, Toris. That creeper with poor Alfred? Shouldn't someone, like, warn him about the dangers of getting involved with a psychotic sexual predator?"

"I think Alfred can handle Ivan." Said Toris thoughtfully. "But I am worried about Arthur. Alfred must have broken up with him to date Ivan. Which is a little sad."

"How do you even know they're doing it?" enquired Feliks. "I mean, he could just be over there for, like, diplomatic reasons."

"I don't think so. When I was talking to Ivan on the phone, I heard Alfred come over and ask to speak to me. Ivan said he'd pass the phone over in a second. Then I heard what sounded suspiciously like kissing noises and then I got cut off. I never did get to speak to Alfred."

Feiks grimaced. "Ew."

"I know."

"Hey Toris. Come on. You've done way too much tidying already. Sit on the bed with me, I'm getting totally bored with this magazine."

Toris sighed. It was true that since Ivan had gone he had been working overtime to keep the house spotless. He deserved a break to spend a little time with his friend.

"Now." Said Feliks, putting down the magazine. "I think we need to stop thinking about Alfred kissing Ivan and start think about you kissing me."

Toris blushed, but did not resist as his friend (boyfriend? Part-time lover?) pulled him into a deep kiss, coaxing him into lying on the bed next to him.

-------------------------------------

Gilbert turned around.

"You know," began the man now facing him, "I know you like to keep a good cover, but it really doesn't endear you to me when you keep referring to me as a pansy."

Gilbert put his hands on his hips. "You _are _a pansy."

Roderich frowned. "No, I'm not."

"What did you tell her?"

Roderich's frown did not leave his face, but Gilbert saw the merest hint of a smile on his lips. "That I was coming outside to have a conversation with you man to man. I am fairly certain she thinks you're going to beat me up. She won't mind. She likes tending to my wounds. It makes her feel like she's taking care of me."

"Do you...really love her?" asked Gilbert, trying desperately not to make the casual tone of voice sound too forced.

Roderich sighed. "I...I don't know. I don't think so. But maybe I do."

"Can she see us?" asked Gilbert.

"No. She's gone into the darkroom. Apparently her pictures of Antonio and Lovino are going to come out quite well." Remarked Roderich.

"Good. Because I'm not sure I can wait much longer."

Without further ado, Gilbert pulled Roderich into his arms and kissed him full on the lips. Roderich, tentative at first, now fully responded, threading his fingers through Gilbert's hair and parting his lips willingly. Their tongues caressed each other, Gilbert's strong arms wound around Roderich's body, holding him close. They might have stayed there for minutes, might have been hours.

All Roderich knew was that being in Gilbert's arms, feeling his lips upon his own, was the best feeling in the world. And this displeased him greatly.

-----------------------

END CHAPTER 4

A/N: Fuck, I love PrussiaxAustria.


	5. Chapter 5

A/N: I'm really sorry for the delay in this chapter being posted. To sort-of make up for it, this chapter is like twice the length of the others.

Chapter 5 – The Break-In

"So. Let's go over the plan one more time."

"Sure. Alfred and Ivan are dining at TGI Friday's at 8pm tonight. All we need to do is sneak into Alfred's house and plant the blueprints somewhere he's sure to find them."

Arthur did not look like he had much confidence in this plan. After all, it was Francis who had come up with it.

"I don't know...do you really think he'll buy it?" he said sceptically.

"Of course he will! You never have faith in my ideas. All will go off without a hitch, trust me." Said Francis in his most reassuring tone. This did not reassure Arthur in the least.

The two had arrived two hours previously, and had booked into the hotel. They were arranging things in their room, ready for the evening's festivities.

"How are we going to get in? Even Alfred's not stupid enough to leave his doors unlocked."

"Arthur Kirkland, are you telling me that after all your years of piracy and spying, you cannot pick a lock? You disappoint me, _mon cheri._"

"All right, all right. But, come on. What if he believes Ivan? He's sure to ask him about it."

"Nonsense." Retorted Francis. "What satisfactory explanation could Ivan give for plans for nuclear subs to be used against the USA being left around his house? Even Alfred will not believe his excuse of "they are not mine"."

Arthur still did not look happy. "I guess." He muttered.

Francis rolled his eyes. "What is the problem now? I tell you, it will work. And if it does not, we have plenty more to try. We will not fail in this endeavour."

"It's just....what if Al's happy? I mean, with Ivan. I want Al back, but I want him to be happy as well."

"Ridiculous!" exclaimed Francis. "The most important thing is _your _happiness, Arthur. Besides, I assure you, after my years of experience when it comes to romance, I know a thing or two about it. Alfred may seem happy now, but I tell you he is still in love with you. You cannot erase that many years of devoted love just by sleeping with Ivan Braginsky. I mean, he is good in bed, but - "

"You slept with him?" Arthur asked exasperatedly.

"Years and years ago. Just the once. Oh, Arthur, come on. You know my reputation. It is not a false one."

Arthur snorted. "Then how would you even know? Surely you're never cared for anyone enough to have to actually get over them?"

Francis looked a little hurt. "You would be surprised. Certainly I have been with many men, many women, but sometimes my heart is captured. And when that happens, I find it very difficult to simply let it go. There is somebody, it is true, whom I have never truly let go. And I do not think I ever can."

Arthur nodded. "You mean ...Matthew?"

Francis paused. "I......yes. Matthew was who I meant."

--------------------------------

"Come _on, _Liet, please. I'm, like, totally begging you here."

"No. My house, my rules."

Feliks frowned. "This is Russia's house."

Toris rolled his eyes. "I'm sorry. Ivan's house, my rules."

"That totally doesn't work! Come on, Liet, I'm so bored..."

Toris folded his arms at his friend and shook his head. "No, Feliks. How do you expect to understand current affairs if you never watch the news? You are a nation. It is important."

Feliks pouted. "But we've been watching for almost ten minutes! How are you not bored by now? Please, please, _please._"

Toris sighed. How could he be expected to resist? Feliks was, as much as he hated to admit, adorable when he was pouting. "Fine. What is it that you want to watch?"

"Beverly Hills 90210, of course!" Feliks proceeded to snatch the remote and switch the channel to what appeared to be 90210 rather badly dubbed. "I win!"

"How did I end up with a best friend as vacuous as you, Feliks?" Toris mused out loud.

"Oh, yeah, about that. I was sort of meaning to talk you about that."

"About what?"

"Yeah, I, like, totally don't want to be your best friend anymore."

Toris looked a little hurt. "Why not? Have you found someone else you like better?"

Feliks grinned. "No, silly. But the thing is, I kinda want you to be my boyfriend instead. Cool?"

"C-cool?" spluttered Toris. How could Feliks just ask him something like that so casually? He wasn't even blushing! Toris himself had turned the colour of a radish. "I-I don't know what you - "

"Don't be a girl about it, Toris." Said Feliks without even looking away from the TV. "I just wish you'd, like, finally admit your feelings for me. I mean, come on. Think about it. We go out together, we spend all our free time together, we're best friends, we're both nations. Oh yeah. And we make out. Like, all the time."

Toris' blush did not fade, but he had to admit, what Feliks said was very true. "So...you want me to be your boyfriend?"

"Yeah. So, like, what d'you say?"

"Um. Yes. I guess. OK. If you want to."

Feliks squealed with glee and threw his arms around a rather unsuspecting Toris. "Oh my gosh, Toris, I was, like, so totally afraid you were gonna say no." He squeezed Toris so hard Toris was actually finding it hard to breathe.

"How could I say no?" mumbled Toris, just loud enough for Feliks to hear. "You know how I feel about you...."

Feliks stared at him for a moment. "Well, I do now." He said suddenly.

"You mean - "

Toris was silenced by the familiar, and ever-wonderful feeling of Feliks' lips upon his.

---------------------------------------------------

"Why do I feel like the Mission Impossible theme ought to be playing at this moment?"

Francis rolled his eyes. "Because, you English all think in clichés. This is not in the least impossible. We shall succeed."

Arthur had a point, though. The two nations were sneaking up on Alfred's house at night, both entirely clad in black, with various lock-picking devices assorted about their persons, and Arthur would not have been in the least surprised had Francis somehow produced night-vision goggles and a stun gun. If anyone saw them they'd never live it down.

"OK. Keep _quiet, _Arthur. Now, _mon cheri, _put your incredible pirate skills to the test. Break us in."

Arthur scowled, something he seemed to be doing a lot lately. Particularly when he was around Francis. "All right, I'm trying. Can't pick a bloody lock all in thirty seconds. Look here, I think Alfred's changed his locks. They're....hard to pick. Can't you do it?"

Francis looked most affronted. "You think _I _can pick a lock? Such common thief tricks are most inappropriate for me, the country of _amour. _If the door could be romanced open, then it should be done by now. Alas, it must be opened with more conventional methods."

Arthur snorted. "I hardly call this conventional. Sneaking around Al's place in the middle of the bloody night."

"It's half past eight."

"Whatever. Not the point."

"Then please, dear Arthur, make the point or get on with it."

Arthur sighed and stood back up. "I can't. It's too hard. We'll have to get in some other way. Or, and this is the option I vote for, we could give this up and go back to the hotel room."

Francis winked. "And do what, Arthur? A hotel room all to ourselves....we could certainly have ourselves a time. I could order champagne, and - "

"We'll break in." Cut in Arthur.

---------------------------------------

Meanwhile, thousands of miles away, in an aristocrat's bedroom, the bed was to be heard creaking.....

"What was that?"

"What was what?"

Another soft footfall on the stairs.

Austria paled."THAT."

Prussia was in a most inconvenient position to be answering questions. That position was directly on top of Austria, completely naked. "Um. I'm sure it was nothing. Now, shut up and let's carry on."

"No!" hissed Austria (also naked), pushing an extremely disgruntled looking Gilbert off him and on to the bed sheet beside him. "I heard something. There's someone out there."

Gilbert looked totally infuriated. "No there's not!"

But there was.

"Roderich!" cried a female voice. "Are you here?"

Roderich looked as though he had just been told someone had pushed his piano over a cliff. "Oh my god, it's Elizaveta!" He whispered desperately.

"Well, get rid of her!"

"I can't get rid of her!"

"Yes you can. Use your masculine wiles. Tell her West and little Feli are banging each other's brains out and their curtains are open. Tell her they're having a sale on frying pans at Homebase. Tell her if she leaves you alone for ten more minutes you'll do a strip show for her later."

Roderich could not help but laugh. "Ten minutes? That would be rather an underachievement, for you."

"Well, we already started, and I'm still - you know!"

As much as Roderich liked to make fun of Gilbert (in repayment for how much Gilbert liked to do the same to him) now was not really the time. Hungary's voice was fast approaching.

"Quick, get in the closet. I'll get dressed." Roderich proceeded to shove Gilbert into his wardrobe, and grabbed his pants. Too late.

"Roderich! Why are you naked?"

"I...I was waiting for you, Eliza....."

Hungary grinned. "You were? Score!"

With that, she jumped him. Roderich attempted to get out words including "Ludwig", "Feliciano", "sex" and "curtains" but, alas, his mouth was muffled by his girlfriend's.

------------------------

"How has my life come to this?" muttered Arthur.

He was up a tree. Quite literally, up a tree. He and Francis, having failed to pick every single lock on Alfred's home, had climbed over the back gate, and noticed, to Francis' excitement and Arthur's utter horror, that an upstairs window was open. To be specific, the window to the upstairs bathroom. And so, being that there were no ladders in sight.....they had climbed a tree.

Most advantageous, Francis had said, that there was a tree so close to the house. The only slight problem with this was the only branch that went near enough to the window was rather thin and precarious-looking. Arthur frankly didn't think it was going to be strong enough to hold Francis' weight, or even his, for that matter. And they were a LOT further up than it had looked from the ground.

"OK. Here's the plan. I shall need both my hands to get through that window. You hold on to the blueprints. I will sneak in through the window, go downstairs and unlock the front door. You go in through there with the plans and meet me in Alfred's bedroom. _Oui?_"

Arthur looked very sceptical at this point. "Do you really think that branch is going to hold your weight, Francis?"

"Are you implying that I am fat, _mon ami_?"

"Um. No."

"The tree will hold my weight. All will go off exactly as planned!" exclaimed Francis confidently.

"Shh! Look, keep it down, will you. The neighbours will hear."

Francis had already turned around and was embarking on his treacherous journey across the branch. Creak. Bend.

"Francis, are you sure you're all right over there?" asked Arthur, edging towards Francis worriedly. Creak. Bend.

"Absolutely, Arthur!" Creak. Bend.

Snap.

"Aaaargh!" Francis cried, as he hurtled towards the Earth. He was falling.

Falling, so completely and totally falling. Drowning in pools of emerald, because he had been saved. Arthur had sprung forward at the last moment, and was clinging to his arm, the strain showing on his face, the worry and hurt in his deep green eyes. Francis was swinging from Arthur's grip, the relief and gratitude evident on his face.

Arthur pulled Francis back on to what remained of the branch and proceeded to hit him quite hard. "What were you thinking?! I told you that branch wouldn't hold your weight, and you just went and bloody did it anyway! You might have fallen. You might have _died._"

"But I didn't. You saved me. Why did you do that?"

"Just – because. Why wouldn't I? I need you to help me get Alfred back, don't I?"

Francis smiled. "No other reason?"

Arthur was going ever so slightly red. "No. What other reason would there be? Wait, don't answer that. Your answer'll just be perverted anyway."

"_Merci, _Arthur." Said Francis, and before Arthur could violently protest, he swooped in and gave the uptight Englishman a quick peck on the cheek.

Of course, Arthur simply violently protested afterwards, instead.

"OK. The new plan is this. I can jump to the window from here."

"That is the single stupidest thing I've ever heard in my life, and I am not going to dignify it with a response."

"But you just have, _Angleterre._"

"Oh, just shut up and go. But this time, if you fall, I am so not catching you."

Francis jumped. And, surprisingly enough, Francis did not fall to his certain death fifteen feet below him, but landed safely on the window ledge. "I am in!"

"Well, go and let me in!" Arthur hissed.

Francis rapidly disappeared inside Alfred's house. Of course, it was only then that Arthur realised he could not possibly get down. Francis, in his hopeless dangling from Arthur's arm, had snapped off the only useful tree branch, and Arthur did not want to jump. He was stranded. In a tree.

He was like one of Heracles' troublesome cats. Perhaps they would have to call the fire department. Arthur really did not want it to come to that. Francis had already deplored his tree-climbing skills on the way up. Arthur did not want to hear Francis' taunts when he heard that Arthur was _stuck. _It wasn't his fault, dammit! It wasn't as though he did this sort of thing regularly! He wasn't a pirate anymore, he was just England! A thoroughly normal English gentleman, who liked nothing more than a cup of afternoon tea and a scone. And now this normal English gentleman was on a mission to plant falsified evidence in the house of his ex-boyfriend, accompanied by someone who would, if he was an ordinary person, probably be a convicted sex criminal, stuck in a tree whilst the aforementioned sex criminal was sneaking in through the upstairs bathroom window. How had it come to this, really?

Francis, meanwhile, was not having better luck downstairs. "Oh, dear. It appears to need a key."

The locks continued to evade him for the next three or four minutes as he searched in vain for a house key with which to unlock the front door. He found none.

"Hm. And dear America's security used to be so shamefully lax." Mused Francis. "This must be Russia's influence."

Finally accepting defeat, Francis scurried back up the stairs, to see if Arthur was still hanging around in that tree. _More than likely, _he thought to himself.

He was atop the stairs, when all of a sudden, he heard a very strange noise coming from above him. What on Earth was up there? Something was moving around in America's attic....Francis panicked and made for the bathroom as quickly as possible. The _thing, _whatever it was, be it a cat or a mad axe murderer, was opening the attic door, and descending....!

"Arthur!" hissed Francis at the Englishman, who was indeed, still sitting in that tree like an idiot.

"What?"

"I think there's someone here!"

Arthur paled. "Someone's there? Oh, fuck, Francis, who? Are Al and Ivan back?" Great, so the slight stabbing pain in his chest at the mention of that name was not gone yet. Wonderful.

"I don't think so. It's coming from the attic."

" The atti – oh, _god, _Francis, it's Tony! Get back here, now!"

"What about the blueprints?"

"I don't know, forget about that! Just get out of there before Tony catches you. If he sees us here he'll tell Alfred, and he'll probably never speak to me again."

"Throw them to me."

Arthur frowned. "What?"

"Throw me the blueprints!"

"I – all right then, bloody hell." Arthur leaned forward and pitched the rolls of paper to Francis, who caught them deftly. "Put them somewhere, oh, I don't know, somewhere Alfred's likely to find them."

Francis look behind him, panicked. "I think the bathroom's going to have to do, Arthur, I can hear movement!"

With that, he carelessly flung the papers on to the bathmat behind him and hurled out of the window, amid cries from Arthur.

"I am OK, Arthur!"

"Great. So all this time I saved you for nothing. I-I can't get down, you bloody idiot."

Francis smirked. "Well, we are in a pickle, aren't we? Perhaps I should call the fire department. Or maybe you could simply live up there. I could pass you food and clothes and - "

"_Francis. _Please. I really could use your help here."

"_Excuse-moi? _I'm sorry, I didn't quite catch that. What did you say?"

"I'm not bloody saying it again, either help me get down or piss off."

"Jump."

Arthur sighed exasperatedly. "I can't jump. What if I break my leg?"

Francis shook his head in despair. "Oh, Arthur. You used to be so much more....what is the word? Hardcore?"

"Shut up, Francis!"

"What I really meant was, if you jump, I will catch you. I promise, Arthur. Jump into my arms, and I will catch you."

Arthur scowled, and once more felt himself reddening. Thank god it was dark. Why did Francis have to put it like that?

"Bloody hell.....fine. But you had better catch me."

"Never fear, I shall."

Arthur, still looking most disgruntled, lowered himself on to the bottommost tree branch he could find, and essentially flung himself on to the ground, and into Francis' arms.

Unfortunately, Arthur was heavier than he looked, and while Francis did indeed catch him, the two didn't stay standing for long. Francis had clearly been hoping for something more along the lines of "Superman catches Lois Lane". What actually happened was that Francis totally buckled under Arthur's weight and crashed to the ground, Arthur sprawled out on top of him.

"Ohhhhh." Arthur moaned, shifting on top of Francis. "You were supposed to catch me, you bloody idiot."

"You fell on top of me. At least you had a cushy landing. I may have a serious spinal injury. Oh, and Arthur? Could you maybe get off me? You moaning on top of me does not bode well for you, _mon cheri._"

Arthur kneed him dangerously close to his vital regions. "Blasted pervert...." he muttered as he pulled himself off Francis.

The two, utterly defeated, crawled over the gate and stumbled away, Arthur still red as a tomato and Francis grinning like the Cheshire Cat. Well, the evening hadn't been a _total _failure after all.

------------------------------------------

"Hm. I wonder what these are?" mused Ivan to himself as he ran the shower. "Blueprints? Interesting."

He continued to glance over the mysterious documents as he removed the remainder of his clothing. He frowned. He certainly didn't remember authorising these. But, then again, tensions between Russia and America were not _totally _diminished (even if they had mostly turned into sexual tension). It could not hurt to hang on to these plans. In case he ever needed to use them.

"Ivan?" he heard a voice from outside.

"Yes, Alfred?"

Alfred swung the door open. He, too, was completely naked. "Hey, Ivan," he began, closing the door behind him and locking it. "Tony just told me something really weird."

Ivan narrowed his eyes. "And you will take the word of this alien, yes? You are a fool, I have always said so."

"Hey, Tony's all right."

"I dislike it."

"_Him."_

"It. Anyway," continued Ivan, "He distrusts me."

"Can you blame him? You don't exactly have the greatest track record when it comes to me. He hates you almost as much as Arthur...."

They both fell silent at the mention of Arthur's name.

Ivan spoke first. "Alfred, what did you come in here to tell me? And, more to the point, why are you naked?"

Alfred grinned. "Well. Tony said someone was in the house tonight. He heard noises coming from downstairs, and so he came out to investigate, but by the time he got down here, whoever it was had gone."

"Hm. Suspicious, possibly. How did they get in? I have told you to always lock all your doors and shut all your windows when we leave the house, Alfred. Would you like me to have to punish you for disregarding my advice?"

"Punish me?" said Alfred, tilting his head, a smile forming on his face. He moved closer to Ivan, brushing the ends of his fingertips on Ivan's hips. "Punish me how?" he asked, moving in even closer.

"I-um. Well, I could...oh...Alfred...." Ivan did not finish his thought as Alfred had started kissing his neck, sucking gently on his collarbone. Ivan was not surprised in the least at how much Alfred always seemed to want to _lick _or _suck _parts of his body. He was usually hungry, after all. It was a good thing Ivan always wore a scarf – those love bites might be a little hard to explain.

"Alfred....you haven't answered my question..." said Ivan breathily into Alfred's ear. Alfred responded in kind, deciding additionally to start sucking on Ivan's earlobe as well.

Alfred pouted. "I have. I told you what Tony said." Alfred's hands had started wandering, curving around Ivan's hips, caressing his skin. Ivan could not help but be aware that their lower bodies were pressing very close together, almost painfully so. If this kept up much longer he would have to take a cold shower.

"I meant the _other _question. Why are you naked?"

Alfred smirked, his hands trailing lower and lower until they were stroking the inside of Ivan's thighs. "I would have thought that would have been obvious by now."

Ivan let out a soft gasp as Alfred started to move his hand a little higher, tracing his finger up Ivan's inner thigh as his mouth continued to do the most wonderful things around Ivan's neck. "Yes....I suppose it is obvious."

"Yep." Alfred smiled. "I came to take a shower, of course."

Ivan faltered. "What?"

Alfred feigned a look of innocence. "Well, why else would I be naked in the bathroom, with the shower running? Honestly, Ivan."

Ivan frowned. "That's _my _shower. I ran it."

Alfred let go of Ivan and pulled open the shower door, steam rising around him. He swiftly removed his fogged up glasses and rested his hand on the shower wall. "But I really, really need a shower, Ivan. I'm very dirty. Maybe you could come in and help me clean off?" he asked, biting his lip in the most enticing manner.

Ivan was powerless to resist this shameless display. "Very well. I see what it is you are after. I shall...shower with you." Resigned, he stepped in to the shower with Alfred, noticing that it was really not large enough to comfortably hold both of them. This, he suspected, would not be a problem.

Alfred grinned, pulling the shower door closed behind him. "And maybe afterwards we could talk some more about that punishment idea of yours....got any whips or handcuffs lying around the house?"

"Yes." Ivan deadpanned. "Of course."

"Excellent....."

Ivan could not protest this idea, as any words of his would have been cut off by Alfred's mouth.

The blueprints lay disregarded on the bathroom floor. And would remain there for the next forty-five minutes, until Ivan and Alfred emerged from the shower, and Ivan nonchalantly picked them up and handed them to Alfred.

"Alfred? Perhaps this is what Tony's mysterious intruders left behind...."

------------------------------

END CHAPTER 5

A/N: France: "EXACTLY AS PLANNED!". Just...no. The mere idea of Light!France terrifies me.

Also. Homebase, by the way, is a British store. It sells stuff like...um. I don't know. Things for one's home? I don't go there a lot. I guess frying pans. I don't know what the Austrian equivalent of a Homebase is.


	6. Chapter 6

A/N: Otherwise known as the writer's block chapter. I'm sorry, guys, it just really didn't want to write. And I'm sorry it's so late.

Oh, and by the way, there obviously aren't really 22. Ref to the _22 Short Films About Springfield. _I just wanted to write about a few characters that I don't normally write about.

Chapter 6 – 22 Short Stories about Hetalia

"It's not staying."

"He's a he, not an it. Be kind to him."

"Get _rid _of it, you idiot. I don't want it in the house." Romano folded his arms and stamped his foot. "It's an animal. It might have rabies."

"He's a turtle."

"Whatever! I still don't want it here! What if it crawls on me in the night?"

"He won't. I promise. If you're so worried, you can sleep with me in my bed. But I assure you, Mr. Turtle cannot open closed doors. He is just a turtle."

Antonio was hurt at Lovino's distaste for Mr. Turtle. He had been sure Lovino would be excited about....well, OK, that was a lie. Lovino did not get excited about anything these days, other than the prospect of causing grievous bodily harm to Ludwig for "sexually assaulting" his brother.

"Ugh, I'm not sleeping in the same bed as you, creeper."

"Suit yourself. But Mr. Turtle stays. Now, how about we stop arguing, hm?" Antonio slid an arm around his adorably tsundere pseudo-boyfriend and kissed him on the cheek.

Lovino scowled. "Not now, pervert."

"Then when?" Antonio responded by tilting Lovino's head so he had better access to his delicious lips. "Come on." He said huskily, nibbling on Lovino's bottom lip. "While no one's watching....I've always wanted to do it outside."

"We're not outside, moron, we're in the barn."

"Same diff. Come _on, _Lovi, we haven't done anything in forever. I'm starting to think you don't love me anymore."

Lovino practically choked. "Whatever gave you the impression I loved you in the first place? That's really fucking presumptuous."

"Oh, I just know, Lovi, darling." Spain responded, pushing Lovino down onto the nearest haystack and teasing his lips open with his tongue.

But Lovino was not having any. "I won't."

"Why not?"

"Because. That..._thing _is watching."

Antonio glanced over to the doorway, where, sure enough, sat a small turtle, happily gazing at them.

"Mr. Turtle! I had no idea you were such a voyeur!"

-------------------------------

Toris towelled his hair dry and stared at himself in the mirror. He traced over the features of his face with a finger, his soft brown hair, over his eyebrows and dusty pale brown eyelashes, to his lightly freckled face, his pink lips. He was confused.

Feliks wanted him to be his boyfriend. Toris had always thought of Feliks as a close friend, but he had no idea Feliks had felt that way. Toris had thought Feliks regarded him as a nuisance.

He _was _a nuisance. Feliks didn't care about him. How could he? Toris wasn't worthy of Feliks' love, he wasn't worthy of anyone's love. Feliks was probably just making fun of him, Toris decided as he wiped away the steam from the mirror with his bare hand.

Everyone thought of Toris as a nuisance. America certainly did. America hardly ever had time to see him, to speak to him anymore. He obviously didn't care about him in the first place.

Toris smiled as he thought of his brief crush on Natalia. He wondered how Natalia was doing, and vaguely hoped Australia, who was attempting to court the vicious girl, still had all his fingers. Natalia had been a special girl, but she hadn't been interested. And after all, Toris could never hope to get anywhere with someone as special as her. He was nothing.

Tears stung in the corners of Toris's eyes as he traced his fingers over the scars that lined his back, gently touching them, reminding himself. He needed reminding. He needed to be punished.

Where was he? Why was he with Alfred? Why hadn't he returned to Toris yet? To give him his purpose back? Toris allowed the tears to run freely over his face as he let himself remember those beautiful times. Painful, but so, so wonderful.

Toris dug his nails in deep. He could not allow himself to think like this. Ivan was happy. Ivan's sanity, although not completely returned to him, was slowly coming back. Ivan could interact with others. Ivan could repair broken relationships with nations other than Lithuania. He was...getting better. Very rapidly. While Toris' already fragile mental health was deteriorating, day by day.

He could not allow himself to be seen like this. He would be strong, for Raivis, for Eduard, and most of all for Feliks. He could not give up on Feliks.

But as the tears spilled on his cheeks, Toris could not help but wonder. If he could not be Ivan's single, solitary sunflower in a world of darkness and depravity, what reason did he have for even being?

------------------------------------

"Well. OK. So the plan wasn't a complete success." Admitted Francis.

Francis and Arthur, after the train wreck that was the Break-In, had given up for the night and retired to the hotel restaurant. Arthur was drowning his sorrows in beer, Francis in wine.

"It was a complete and utter disaster, Francis." Snapped Arthur. "I thought you said this was going to be easy. You said they would be broken up within the week. It's been almost a week. We've only got twelve days left until the conference. What do you intend to do now?"

"I think we may have been going about this the wrong way." Replied Francis thoughtfully.

Arthur gave him a look of contempt. "No, you think? Whatever makes you say that?"

"There is no need for sarcasm, dear Arthur. What I mean is, we should not be trying to break up their relationship by thinking of them as nations. We should be treating them as humans."

"I'm lost."

"We must play on their lack of trust, yes, but not as competing nations. As jealous lovers."

"So, you mean....."

"We shall make one of them think the other has cheated."

"How are we going to accomplish that?"

Francis thought for a minute. "Ah ha! I have it. Once a month, five of us go out drinking together. Myself, Gilbert, Denmark, Ludwig and dear Antonio. We are going out this Thursday. I shall invite Russia along. There, I shall make sure he is drunk enough to believe anything I say, and convince him that Alfred is cheating on him."

Arthur was looking sceptical. "Wouldn't it be easier the other way around? I mean, for a start, Alfred's more credible than Ivan. And for another thing, who are you going to say Alfred has been cheating with? Because whoever it is, they're going to be beaten to death with a pipe."

"I take your point, _mon ami_. Perhaps, then, we should try it on Alfred?"

"I don't know." Said Arthur. "Whoever we do it on, we have to get someone else involved. It's not really fair."

Francis thought. Arthur was right, this was going to be tricky. "OK. Here it is. What we shall do is, instead of talking to either of them directly, we shall plant the seeds of suspicion in their minds another way. Do you think you can get ahold of America's cell phone?"

Arthur shrugged. "Probably not, I would say. Given how well the last breaking and entering plan went...."

"_Non. _That is not necessary. I have discovered that Alfred and Ivan are attending a diplomatic dinner in Paris tomorrow evening. Their respective bosses will be in attendance, as well as a number of high level ambassadors from across the world. Around a hundred attendees in all. My plan is to disguise myself as a member of the catering staff. No one suspects a waiter. If Alfred has his cell phone with him, I shall abstract it without a problem."

"And what do you intend to do with it?" asked Arthur suspiciously.

"Simple. I send to it a number of text messages, all of them highly erotic in nature. From an anonymous number of course, we do not want any innocent person to suffer Ivan's wrath. Then simply place it somewhere Ivan will find it. Alfred will probably not notice it is missing until it is far too late. Ivan will be suspicious."

"What if it doesn't work?" asked Arthur. "Ivan might believe Alfred."

Francis shook his head. "Not at all. Whereas dear Alfred is gullible, Ivan is not. He may choose to have faith is his new lover. But the seeds of suspicion will be planted. We simply have to build on that. This may take longer than one evening, true. But we will have accomplished something."

"It's pretty mean." Said Arthur. "I'm not sure if I want to - "

"Listen to me very carefully, Arthur. Do you or do you not want Alfred and Ivan to break up?"

"I do." Admitted Arthur grudgingly. "But I - "

"Then we must do this, Arthur, for it is the only way! We depart for Paris tonight!"

--------------------------------------

"Feliciano, please, _please _slow down. You're going to get us killed."

Feliciano chose to ignore the concerned pleas of his boyfriend, Ludwig, and continue down the highway at 80 miles an hour. Feliciano was not exactly a bad driver. He was just.....OK, yeah, he was a bad driver. He was reckless, and much too fast.

Feliciano and Ludwig were going to visit Feliciano's older brother, Lovino, and his "roommate" Antonio. Feliciano had been looking forward to the visit for weeks, so Ludwig could hardly begrudge him it, despite the fact that he had serious concerns about his safety around Feliciano's psychotic older brother, who hated Ludwig even more than ever now that he and Feliciano were "official" (although Ludwig could barely bring himself to admit the fact most of the time, and always avoided referring to their relationship as anything other than "just good friends"). Ludwig didn't understand what Lovino's problem was. Feliciano was a consenting adult of sound mind (kind of) and it wasn't as though Ludwig was going to treat him badly. Despite his misgivings, he was awfully fond of Feliciano.

Although that moment was one of those times he was less fond of his reckless boyfriend. Getting killed in a car wreck did not rank high on Ludwig's list of things he enjoyed doing with Feliciano. He could barely bring himself to look at the speedometer, which was now registering 89 mph.

Feliciano smiled breezily and rolled the top down on his cute little sports car, a red Lamborghini. "Oh, I just love driving!" he exclaimed happily. "It's so relaxing!"

"Relaxing? You're a maniac! Slow down!" barked Ludwig. Feliciano had certainly become a lot more independent since the war, but he still usually obeyed Ludwig. Unfortunately, now was not one of those times. Feliciano continued driving, blissfully ignoring Ludwig's words.

Two terrifying hours later, they arrived at the massive farmhouse where Lovino was in residence with his "friend" Antonio, otherwise known as Spain. Ludwig no longer cared what Lovino did to him, he was just grateful to be out of the deathtrap that was the Feliciano-mobile.

He ate those words ten seconds later as a fuming Lovino opened the door. "Be warned, potato-bastard, I'm not in a good enough mood to put up with you. Antonio just left me alone to cook the dinner so he could go and exercise a turtle!"

Feliciano looked confused. "Big brother, I didn't know turtles needed exercise...."

----------------------------------------

Hungary was in a very good mood. She had had a successful morning of stalking, and had met up with her good friend Belgium for lunch in Paris. She had every intention of spending the rest of the afternoon shopping (a girl always needed new shoes...and new yaoi manga) with her unknowingly-generous boyfriend's credit card. Roderich wouldn't mind. He never did mind when she spent the whole day out shopping, something that had always puzzled Elizaveta a little. Still, no matter. She turned the corner and sat on a bench, to rest her tired feet and take in the beautiful sights of Paris.

Her meditations were interrupted slightly when she recognised two voices on the bench behind her. She craned her neck to see who they were, and sure enough, saw Francis Bonnefoy, and, much to her chagrin, Gilbert Weillschmidt. What was he doing here? She knew the two were friends, and spent most of the time causing as much havoc as possible with Antonio, but surely they should have been busy?

She didn't waste time pretending to herself that she wasn't going to listen in to their conversation. After all, they had their backs to her, and she was in prime position to listen in.

"....don't know what to do anymore."

Gilbert snorted. "Deal with it like you do everything else. Get laid."

Francis sniffed. "That's not going to work this time. Unless you're offering?"

"Again?" replied Gilbert. "Yeah, OK. You wanna use the blindfolds again?"

"_Oui. _If you don't mind."

"Why would I mind?"

"Gilbert?"

"Yes?"

"How do you do it? How do you get through the days? Because I get up every morning feeling wonderful, and then I remember, and....."

Elizaveta could not see, but Gilbert was rolling his eyes. "Come on. You French are way too sentimental. Stop being such a romantic about it. Accept the fact that he loves someone else and move on. Surely there are loads of people gagging for it. You could just get another boyfriend. Simple."

"It is not as simple as all that, I am afraid."

"Does he know? What does he think about all this?" asked Gilbert.

Francis sighed. "He knows nothing. He thinks I am in love still with dear Matthew. Not a statement he should have any trouble accepting, Matthew and I dated for several years. He shall never know that all the time I was with Matthew, I was thinking only of him....."

Gilbert scoffed. "This is what I'm talking about. You're not normally like this. How have you, of all people, built up a couple of months of decent hatesex that happened hundreds of years ago to this? Can't you just let it go?"

"Arthur? Never....." mumbled Francis, just loud enough for Elizaveta to hear, who managed to restrain a gasp with a good deal of difficulty. What were they thinking, talking about stuff like this in public?

"So why are you helping him break up Al and the commie bastard?" asked Gilbert. "I mean, apart from the fact that you're doing the world a massive favour by making the Russian as miserable as fuck," (Gilbert had never made any effort to conceal his distaste for Ivan) "surely it's making it much harder for you to move on from Arthur, given all the time you spend together now. Besides, what if you succeed? Then loverboy will be back with Alfred and you'll be screwed. Are you hoping that Arthur will eventually fall in love with you? Look, you need a reality check, I'm sorry. He's head over heels in love with Alfred, I've seen it, I've seen the way he looks at him. And judging by the way Alfred looks back, he's still completely crazy about Arthur too, I don't care what anyone says."

Francis scowled. "And what about you, Mr. I'm-in-love-with-a-man-who's-only-using-me-for-sex-until-his-girlfriend-gets-back? What do you have to say for yourself?"

Gilbert shrugged. "Nothing. I admit freely that I am completely, one-hundred-and-twenty percent crazy about Roderich. But at least I accept the fact that he's never going to feel the same way. I don't pretend to myself that one day he's going to break up with Eliza and declare his undying love for me. Because I know that reality doesn't work like that. Life is not a bad romantic comedy. It's a shitty, horrible, gritty soap opera with one drama after another, for your whole pathetic life, until your character eventually gets killed off. So I don't sit around fantasizing about the day Roderich and I will run away together, I take what I can get, which, thankfully, is damn good sex. And speaking of which, I'm getting annoyed talking about this already, wanna go fuck at your hotel? We might as well not pretend we're not going to have painful, emotionally disconnected sex to take our minds off the fact that our lives are a joke. That would be awfully hypocritical of us."

"You live your life so philosophically, Gilbert. I wish I felt the same as you. But, yes, I would like to sleep with you. Let us depart."

Neither man noticed Elizaveta, who was sitting perfectly still on the bench behind them, an expression of pure shock on her face, as yet undecided how she felt about the revelations she had just heard.

---------------------------------------

"Move your hand any closer, and I will cut it off." Snarled a female. An incredibly pretty female, with long, silvery-blonde hair, violet eyes and an icy disposition to match her icy appearance. She was wearing a blue dress and her hair was accentuated by a jaunty bow tied atop her head.

The man she was with was grinning broadly at her from behind a brown hat, his clear blue eyes sparkling with mischief. His sandy hair, highlighted with golden blonde from years spent in the sun, poked out from beneath his hat. His face was pleasantly weatherbeaten, and a smattering of freckles lay across his nose.

Australia had been attempting to court Natalia for several weeks now. He usually gave up with difficult women after a matter of days, but Natalia was different. She never bossed him around like any of his previous girlfriends, she simply did her very best to ignore him. When he did make a move, she threatened him with physical violence that Australia knew she would not hesitate to carry out. He had heard about what she did to Toris, and had no desire to have the same happen to him. Despite having been warned off the girl, his desire for her had not waned. She was self-assured, feisty and pretty ferocious – just the qualities Australia looked for in a girl. He was looking for someone who was a match for him – and Natalia, with her withering glances, cool brush-offs and the frankly terrifying number of knives she carried about her person, was more than a match for Australia. It was really too bad that on their very first date, which it had taken him almost a month to get her to agree to, she had spent the whole night talking about someone else. Someone Australia was really starting to dislike.

"I told you to stop that." She snapped. "What if big brother was to walk in and see you doing that? He would think I was cheating on him. When big brother and I get married, he'll make sure I don't spend any time with other men. He'll be far too jealous."

Australia rolled his eyes. "Yeah, he'll be jealous. Jealous of _you. _How many times do you need to be told, Nat? Your older brother is just not that into you. He's into other guys. Trust me on this."

Natalia sniffed. "Brother has made some mistakes with his sexuality in the past. He will come to his senses. And never call me Nat again."

Australia laughed. "You must be joking, babe. He's probably boning America at this very moment, and after you've been there, there's no going back to straight, Iggy told me all about it."

Natalia let out an involuntary shudder at the thought of her older brother with another man. And at the fact that he had called her "babe".

"Seriously, you're off your rocker if you think that brother of yours is remotely interested in foxy sheilas like yourself. Me, I think he's mad, but that's just the way it is. Wasn't he crazy in love with that wimpy little ex of yours? Lithuania?"

Natalia did not deign to answer, but whipped out her knife and stood up. "I am going to the bar to get another drink." She hissed. "You are warned. Another word against brother and I will cut off something much more important than your hand."

-----------------------------------------

Arthur was browsing the shelves of the 3 for 2 section. Unfortunately, this was a Parisian bookstore and he had no desire to read _The Catcher in the Rye _again, especially not in French. What Alfred saw in that book.....still, thoughts of Alfred were not to be entertained. He was determined to not let this small stumbling block on his way to happiness mean that he became even more of a cynical old man. Alfred would come to his senses soon enough. With a little help from himself and Francis.

He was thumbing through a pristine copy of a French _Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas _when he spotted someone he had hardly expected to see in France. More likely to be spotted bugging the hell out of whichever couple had taken her fancy that week. It was Elizaveta.

"Oi, Lizzie!"

Her head snapped around, her eyes bugging as she noticed the only person who dared to refer to her as "Lizzie". Arthur Kirkland.

"Hey, Arthur! What's up?"

"Not too much. Just mooching around while Francis is off doing....whatever it is he does with his free time of late."

Elizaveta blanched. "Right....."

Arthur narrowed his eyes at her. "What? You're hiding something from me. Don't think I can't tell."

"Well, I can't really say. All I'll tell you is that he's with Gilbert, and they're doing something that I really really wish I had on film."

Arthur raised a distinctive eyebrow. "Right. Francis fucking Gilbert. Probably should have guessed that." He didn't feel entirely happy, and for a moment he wasn't at all sure why. He didn't dwell on it. Those sort of thoughts could get a person into trouble.

"If it makes you feel any better, Gilbert doesn't really want Francis. He's only doing it to take his mind off the fact that he's in love with Roderich." She said bitterly.

"Gilbert? In love with Roderich? I don't believe it." Scoffed Arthur.

"No, it's true. I heard him telling Francis. And don't ask me how I feel about the fact that they're sleeping together, because I haven't decided yet."

Arthur was a little gobsmacked. "Oh....dear."

Elizaveta shrugged. "Whatever. Roderich's a big boy, he doesn't need me to tell him who to sleep with. If he wants to be with Gilbert I really don't mind that much. I don't want him to feel obligated to me. It was horrid when we had to get divorced, but now? I think the spark's gone, to be honest. And now I know the reason why. I knew there was something he wasn't telling me. I just didn't expect it to be...this."

"Sorry about that, Lizzie. As I'm sure you know, I'm having a little trouble with my boyfriend sleeping with other men."

Elizaveta grinned. "I heard. Don't worry your pretty little head about it, Alfred will make the right choice, he's not a total moron. Everyone can see that you and him are totally made for each other. He'll stop being such a dingbat soon enough. Listen, I have to go, I said I'd meet Liechtenstein. Are you gonna be OK?"

Arthur shrugged. "Yeah. I suppose. See you later."

"See ya! Oh, and Arthur, one more thing."

"Yeah?"

"If you and Francis ever need any help at all in breaking up Al and that...._person...._just give me a call, OK?"

Arthur looked at her wide-eyed. "You have problem with Ivan still?"

Elizaveta nodded indignantly. "I shall always hate that man. How could I not? He's the reason Roderich and I had to get a divorce in the first place."

-------------------------------

"You look ridiculous."

"Da? Ridiculous, is it? I am sure my sister would not agree, perhaps I shall sit with her at this dinner, yes?" Ivan could not even say this with a smirk. The idea of spending an evening with Natalia terrified him to his very core.

Alfred chuckled. "You're so goddamn witty. I didn't know you had a sense of humour."

"Who says I was joking?"

"Now I bet I look like a clown too. Yeah, see, my bow tie isn't straight, and I hate wearing a dinner jacket, it always reminds me of when Arthur tried to make me wear - " Alfred cut himself off.

There was an awkward silence of a good thirty seconds before Ivan spoke.

"You can talk about him, you know that, yes?"

"I guess." Mumbled Alfred.

Ivan smiled fondly at his lover, pressing a quick kiss to his temple. "Now come along, Alfred, we must go. We wouldn't want to be late, now, would we?"

Alfred rolled his eyes. "Of course not!"

---------------------------------

END CHAPTER SIX

A/N: It is now my personal headcanon that Spain and Romano have a turtle named Mr. Turtle.

Also, crack as it is, I now like the pairing Australia x Belarus. It is all the fault of the wonderful Lucky-Angel135 and their fic "Mr and Mr Cold War" in which Australia hits on Bela, and based on which I have somehow decided they are perfect for each other. By the way, if you like Russiamerica, there is no excuse for not reading that fanfiction.

Lol at myself for putting an Azumanga reference in here. Oh, and one last thing - sorry for the emo Toris!


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter Seven : An American Boy in Paris- Part Une 

"Well, doesn't it all look delicious?" mused Alfred, flicking through the menu. His mind was most certainly not going to be on anything but food for the next hour or so. Ivan had forbidden him from having his usual afternoon burger snack, and he was starving. He was reminded of how Arthur would always make him have tea and a scone at 5 o'clock, because that was when tea time was. He was surprised at how much that thought hurt.

"Alfred..."

Alfred glanced up at Ivan from his menu. Ivan's eyes were narrowed suspiciously at the table across from them. The diplomatic dinner was taking place at one of the fanciest hotels in Paris, and two conference rooms and the main dining hall, a large, high ceilinged room had been booked for the entire evening. There must have been at least a hundred people in that room alone, and dozens of identically dressed French waiters were scurrying around pouring wine, reading specials, and offering appetisers. A band was even preparing to serenade them through dinner.

Alfred and Ivan had been seated on a table of 12, which was advantageous in that there were enough people that no one was trying to make small talk with them. Most of the people on their table were European dignitaries who had no idea who they were. Don't ask, don't tell was going to be their policy for the evening. Ivan glance was fixed on the table across from them, at which Russia's president and America's were whispering confidentially.

"What do you think they are talking about?"

Alfred murmured "Who?"

Ivan scowled, jostling Alfred's shoulder. "Our bosses!"

Alfred rolled his eyes. "What do you think?"

Ivan mused. He knew they must be talking about the recent missile defence debacle. "Alfred. Why did you do that?"

"Do what?"

"You know what. It's not because of - "

"No." Alfred cut Ivan off. "That sort of thing isn't up to me. It's up to my boss. I can discuss that sort of thing with him, but it's not up to me to make political decisions."

Ivan folded his arms. "But surely Poland is angry with you."

"He's not happy, I'll give you that. But he'll get over it. He's not the type to hold a grudge."

Ivan looked sceptical. "I know Poland a good deal better than you do. And I assure you, he can hold a grudge."

Alfred grinned. "Well, sure, he hates you. You were kind of a jerk to him."

Ivan did not smile.

Alfred noticed. "Hey." He said, placing a hand over Russia's. "What's up? You've been bothered this whole evening, don't think I can't tell."

"I am worried."

"About what?"

Ivan shrugged. "Several things. I am worried about the repercussions of this defence system issue. I am worried about what we will have to give you in return. But, on a more basic, carnal level - "

"Yes?"

"I am worried about our relationship."

Alfred looked completely nonplussed. "But...it's getting better?" He spoke as though Russia were slow.

"That's my point, really. Is our relationship at all interesting unless it is fraught with peril?"

Alfred looked as though he had been punched in the stomach. "What do you mean?"

"Can you honestly say you feel any chemistry between us, Alfred? Any spark?"

"Yes. Don't you?"

Ivan gaze was resolutely fixed on his boss, as far away from Alfred's sparkling, determined blue eyes as possible. "I am better now....because of you. I feel the days when I needed to exercise control over the dark side of me slipping away into the past. But Alfred, you have taken from me, from us, the life our relationship used to have, all those years ago. Do you not miss it? The sniping, the bitching, the pure hatred, the jealousy, the paranoia, the passion?"

Alfred let go of Russia's hand. His tone was icy. "I need to go to the bathroom. I'll be back in three minutes. And if in that three minutes you have not decided to retract your statement that you essentially wish things were like they were when you were still a communist then I swear, you'd better not be here at all."

"Alfred, wait - "

Alfred rounded on his heel, and spun around to face Russia, pure anger marring his handsome face. "I just want to have a fucking normal relationship for once!" he practically yelled. "Is that too much to ask?"

And with that, he was gone.

--------------------------------------------------

"How's it going?" Arthur hissed through the walkie-talkie that he and Francis had purchased for their super-secret-awesome spy mission. Francis was masquerading as a waiter, while Arthur waited in the men's room with one of the pair of walkie-talkies, awaiting further instruction from Francis.

Arthur had practically cried when Francis had shown him his disguise. It was the most hilarious thing he had ever seen. Francis had used wash-in hair dye to turn his blond locks dark brown, and had tied his hair back. He had even gone so far as to affect a ridiculous moustache which had obviously been purchased from a low-quality joke shop. Arthur hadn't stopped laughing for over half an hour.

As much as he had made fun of him for his appearance, Arthur was now beginning to begrudge Francis his task. It would be much more fun to be out there instead of cooped up in a tiny bathroom stall, perched on the seat, clasping a walkie-talkie.

"Come in, Arthur!" the walkie-talkie suddenly yelled.

"Yes, it's me. How's it all going out there?"

"Badly, _mon ami. _Alfred has gone."

"Gone? Where?"

"Don't ask me, but he has been gone nearly ten minutes. I am surprised Russia has not deigned to search for him."

"Well, do something!" demanded Arthur.

"What would you have me do? I am to be serving the crab cakes in a minute."

Arthur rolled his eyes. Trust Francis to take his role as a waiter seriously. "I don't know. Something. Get the phone. Is it there?"

Francis peered around the corner to get a better view of Alfred's table. "His jacket is still there. It is probably in there. Ring it. I shall go to the table to take orders. If I hear it ringing, I shall let you know."

Arthur sighed. "All right."

He dialled Alfred's number and let it ring for a couple of minutes. Mercifully, Ivan did not answer it. Presumably he was too busy giving his order to Francis. It would be a miracle, thought Arthur, if Ivan didn't recognise Francis. He wasn't exactly inexperienced when it came to spying. Surely he would see through Francis' ridiculous disguise?

He was interrupted during his musings by another person entering the bathroom. They slammed the door to the neighbouring cubicle and sat on the floor. _Great, _thought Arthur. _Another amateur secret agent, more than likely. _

It was only then that he realised he recognised the pair of shoes he could see under the door of the next stall.

Oh God. _Alfred. _

"Arthur! All is well, the phone - "

"Shhhhhh!" was all Arthur could hiss into the walkie-talkie without giving away the sound of his voice. Unfortunately, the damage was already done.

"Arthur?" asked Alfred through the wall of the cubicle. "Is it you?"

Arthur realised with a sinking heart that, very likely, his and Francis' plans were all going to be ruined in this very moment, and Alfred would probably never speak to him again.

That thought still couldn't stop him from replying. "Yes. Al, it's me."

"So you're here for the dinner too? I didn't realise you were coming. If I'd known - "

_You probably wouldn't have come. _Arthur finished for him.

"- I'd have asked for a seat at your table." Finished Alfred.

"What? You – really?"

Arthur heard the bolt of the cubicle door and Alfred stepped outside. Arthur followed suit, and upon gazing at Alfred's face, realised that he had not seen him for over a week. How had he forgotten in that short time just how blue Alfred's eyes were? _Fuck. This isn't good. _

"Yeah." Shrugged Alfred. "Wanna sit?" he motioned to the conveniently placed couch (my God, this hotel was fancy). "Chat for a bit? I don't really feel like going back out there for a while. If you don't mind, I mean."

Arthur was so shocked he could only think in words of one syllable. "Yeah. Sure. Fine. I mean, yeah. That's cool."

They sat. And chatted.

"So why aren't you out there with...um. You know. Russia?"

Alfred folded his arms. "We kinda had a little fight. Over something really stupid, it was totally petty, not even worth – I mean, it was nothing. Nothing I can't fix. I am a hero, after all!"

"Do you want to, um, talk about it?" Arthur had heard these very same words used in soap operas and romantic movies as well as on his therapist's couch. Apparently "talking about it" was something normal people actually _liked _to do.

"I just don't understand why he has to be so difficult!" fumed Alfred. "It's not like I'm asking a lot of him. All he has to do is like me for who I am. How's that difficult?"

"It's not." Replied Arthur, his heart beating a little faster. "It's really, really not."

"I thought he and I were finally in a place where we didn't have to be antagonistic towards each other all the time. I thought we were moving on. But that's not good enough for Ivan, oh _no, _he has to make it difficult, he wants us to go back to the way things were, he wants us to be sniping at each other the whole time. He makes it sounds like he liked it better when we hated each other! He obviously doesn't like me at all, really. He never did. He just wanted to have some good hatesex. He was probably only using me to get over Toris, after all."

Arthur knew these things weren't true. As much as he detested Ivan, he simply couldn't believe that anyone could be with Alfred and not love him, infuriating as he often was. And yet – here was his chance. Alfred was vulnerable. Alfred was angry with Ivan. Alfred could be easily persuaded....

"I'm glad to see you again. It's nice to have someone to talk to about this stuff. It's cool to be able to talk with you about relationship stuff, Arthur. I mean, I know you won't be upset, because you broke up with me, and all."

Alfred followed up these words by resting his head on Arthur's shoulder. _God damn it, what is he doing to me? _Arthur internally cried.

"Al." He spoke suddenly. "I don't think you should give up on Russia just yet." Was he really saying these words? It was as though his brain had no control over his mouth. "I know he's a bastard, but I think he might actually care about you. Give him another chance. Maybe he'll surprise you."

Alfred further fogged up Arthur's brain at this point by placing a hand over Arthur's and squeezing it. "You really think so?"

_Kill me kill me kill me seriously Earth just open up and swallow me whole and - _"Yeah. I do. I think you might have misjudged him."

Alfred sighed. "Yeah, maybe. I seem to do that a lot."

"What do you mean?" asked Arthur.

"Misjudging people. I mean, I did it with you, too. I thought you and I were, like, rock solid and that we were going to spend the rest of our lives together and all that crap, and then you broke up with me. So I guess I was wrong about how you felt. And now Ivan, too."

_You didn't misjudge me, _Arthur wanted to scream. _I do want that. I always have. I was an idiot._

But he didn't. He couldn't. "What do you want out of this thing with Ivan? I mean, really. You two have only been together a week. Don't you think you're taking it all a bit seriously?"

Alfred pouted, and nudged closer to Arthur. "I don't know. But I know what I don't want, and that's for us to be this dysfunctional bitchy couple who argue all the time. That's what you and I had and look how that turned out. I just want something normal for once. I'm not saying I want us to move into a house in Connecticut with a white picket fence and an apple tree, and get a dog, and have a big backyard where little Alfred Jr. can ride his bike, but I want the _possibility. _Am I expecting too much?"

Arthur was surprised. Alfred had never mentioned any of this to him. Obviously now that they were broken up Arthur was a confidante. Arthur vaguely wondered if Alfred had talked to anyone about their relationship. More prominent in his mind was the idea that Alfred wanted to become serious. With Ivan Braginsky. At some point in the (hopefully very distant) future. Ouch.

"Well, have you considered actually telling Ivan how you feel?"

"I just did. There's no problem with _me _expressing my feelings clearly. I just always seem to end up with guys who are either too _proper _to say how they're feeling - "

"Hey!"

"- or ex-psychopaths who apparently think we're better off hating each other."

"Alfred. You need to be saying this stuff to Ivan."

Alfred nodded. "I know. It's just kinda difficult. I don't want people to start thinking I think deeply about stuff like this!"

Arthur grinned. "People certainly wouldn't know what to say if you started thinking."

Alfred gave Arthur one of his best knee-weakening smiles. "Thanks for listening to me ramble, Iggy. It's nice to know you're a friend even if you don't love me anymore." Alfred pulled Arthur into a hug. Arthur wrapped his arms around Alfred's waist, wishing like hell he didn't have to let go.

"I think you should go back out there. Ivan will be wondering where you've got to."

"All right. Look. Um, I'll see you at the conference, right?"

"Yeah. Of course. See you later." Replied Arthur.

--------------------------------

"Arthur?"

"Yes, yes, it's all right, he's gone now."

"Was it Alfred?"

"Obviously."

"And what did he say?"

"We just....talked."

"Talked? About what?"

"I don't know, stuff! Relationship stuff. Him and Ivan. Him and me."

"Good! Perhaps he is realising how much better off he was with you!"

"Yeah. Maybe. Look, Francis, did you get the mobile?"

"His phone? Yes. I have it here. I'll be there in a couple of minutes. We're serving dessert."

----------------------------------

Ten minutes later, Francis and Arthur convened once more in the bathroom. Francis procured the Blackberry from his pocket. "Here it is. Now what shall we do?"

"OK." Began Arthur. "I got this phone earlier today. I figure we can send texts to Alfred's mobile from this. It'll be an unrecognised number, of course, don't want Ivan going off and murdering some innocent bystander. Now...the nature of these texts."

"Ah ha! Leave that to me, _mon petit Angleterre. _This is my area of expertise. I shall see to it."

Francis set about sending a number of text messages to Alfred's phone. All in all the process took about five minutes.

"All right, enough already. What should I do?" asked Arthur.

"You simply need to put it somewhere Russia will definitely find it before Alfred. And make sure you leave the text screen open."

"OK, _where_?"

"Mon dieu, you have so little imagination, Arthur! Think. Is there nowhere in Alfred's house he has shown himself unwilling to venture?"

It came to Arthur in a flash. "Of _course. _The basement. He never goes down there. He's terrified of the basement, he thinks there's ghosts down there."

"_Parfait."_

"But...how are we going to get down there? We can't break into Al's house again, look at what happened last time! And it's not like one of us can just stroll over there and say 'hey, can we go into your basement for no adequately explored reason, please?'"

"Hm. Perhaps another disguise?"

Arthur shook his head. "Not a chance. Ivan might not have recognised you in the dim light of the dining hall, but in the middle of the day? They definitely will. And it's not like they haven't seen the two of us together. Ivan's more than capable of putting two and two together, Francis."

"Then we need someone else to help us. But who?"

Arthur knew exactly who. "I've got it. I can't believe I didn't think of her before."

He whipped out his own mobile phone and dialled.

"Lizzie? Yeah, it's me. Listen. About that offer of help with the Alfred situation? I think I'll take you up on that."

-------------------------------------------

END CHAPTER 7

A/N: Hope this chap wasn't too boring or anything....anyway, it was originally one, but I split it into two parts, next one up soon.

On another note. EPISODE 35. Naked France molesting England? Best episode ever.


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter Eight: An American Boy in Paris – Part Deux

"So, where'd you say she was?"

Roderich Edelstein was not having one of the best weeks of his life. There were a mere nine days left until the conference, and he had yet to finish planning the menu. It was a matter of choosing exactly the right chocolate cake. And what music should they have during the meetings? Would Stravinsky be better for the group bonding exercises or Rachmaninoff?

And Gilbert was not being helpful. The other day he had brought Antonio and Francis over, and the three had spent the entire afternoon playing loud music in Austria's living room. Apparently they were playing some video game where they all played different instruments, pretending to be rock stars. Not only was it most certainly _not _Austria's kind of music, but they had spent the rest of the time coming to annoy him, when he was _trying _to prepare for an important conference! Three days they would be here, In Austria's house, and everything had to be perfect! The situation had only resolved itself after Roderich made a couple of well-placed calls to Lovino Vargas and Arthur Kirkland. Lovino had stormed into the living room dragging Antonio out by his collar, yelling at him for wasting his time when he should have been "feeding that fucking turtle". At least, that was what Roderich had heard. Maybe his ears were going funny after too much time spent with his piano. He also thought he heard Arthur mutter to Francis "we should be planning for tonight anyway, what are you doing over here?". No matter.

It wasn't just Gilbert that was trying his patience these days. As a matter of fact, Gilbert himself, especially when he was alone with Roderich, was becoming a little more distant every day. Roderich was at a loss to understand it. Normally, he'd be attempting to grope him within thirty seconds of being left alone with him. These days, he didn't seem like he was bothered. He had also gained a perpetually weary expression, one Roderich had barely ever seen on him before, as though the strain of being him was simply too much, as though he was tired all the time, weighed down with some intangible burden. Roderich was not sure what had prompted the change in him. He wondered if it had anything to do with Francis Bonnefoy's painfully obvious pining for Arthur Kirkland.

No, it was Elizaveta who was getting on his nerves now. She was constantly berating him for not being good enough at whatever, she had taken to hitting him with her frying pan more than Gilbert, and she was constantly spending his money. It was almost like she was going out of her way to be as irritating as possible, which was very unlike her.

Roderich had begun to wonder if it was perhaps time to cut those particular ties. His feelings for Elizaveta were certainly there, but lately he had found that it was Gilbert, not her, that was pervading his thoughts more than was acceptable. His sadness was palpable. Roderich cared far too much.

Why was everybody around him changing all of a sudden? Roderich did not approve of change. He liked things to remain stationary and controlled.

All of a sudden he realised he had not answered Gilbert's question. The two of them were alone in Roderich's room, Gilbert staring aimlessly out of the window while Roderich flicked through music scores.

"Eliza? She's out. She had a phone call from Arthur Kirkland last night, asking her to do some sort of favour for him. She's with him, and presumably Francis as well. Those two have barely been seen out of each other's company since Arthur and Alfred broke up." Remarked Austria.

Gilbert grinned. "So, you think there's something going on there?"

Austria sniffed. He was not one to indulge in idle gossip, but Gilbert knew just about every piece of gossip there was to know anyway, so it could hardly hurt. "By all accounts Arthur's still very much hung up on Alfred. I don't see those two getting over each just that easily."

Gilbert snorted. "Whatever. Alfred's doing that Russian fucker now, he's over it."

"How simple _are _you? Alfred is not "over" Arthur. Not by a long way. You will see."

"Well, if Francis and Arthur have anything to do with it, Ivan'll be heartbroken by the end of the week." Gilbert was obviously relishing the thought, his expression gleeful .

"What does that mean?"

"Francis and Arthur are conspiring to break up Alfred and Ivan. Which, if you ask me, is an awesome plan."

Roderich raised an eyebrow. "Is that so? I assume they have not succeeded?"

"Nope, not yet. They've tried a few things, but nothing's worked yet. Supposedly they're doing something else today."

Roderich suddenly realised something. "Oh dear. The favour Elizaveta is doing for Arthur....you don't suppose...?"

Gilbert laughed. "Yeah, maybe. After all, when has Eliza ever shown an immense desire to see Ivan Braginsky happy? Yeah, maybe she's helping them out. If so, good on her. I wonder how she found out."

Roderich sniffed. "Arthur probably told her. I have been told that the two ran into each other at a bookshop on the Rue Saint-Andre des Arts, where, by the way, she managed to practically destroy my credit rating on a single Wednesday afternoon. I'm telling you, Gilbert, she has been behaving strangely ever since that day. Perhaps it was something Arthur said to her."

Roderich did not notice how pale Gilbert had gone. "Th-the Rue Saint-Andre? On Wednesday?"

"Yes. I just said that."

Gilbert tried to give a breezy laugh, which ended up getting stuck in his throat. "Ha! Yeah, you're totally right. Must be Arthur's fault. Stupid limey."

"And while we're on the subject of people behaving strangely, Gilbert...Not that I'm complaining, but you haven't tried to feel me up all afternoon."

Gilbert smiled and sat down next to Roderich. "Sounds like complaining to me...." he murmured, sliding an arm around Roderich's waist. "If you wanted me to feel you up, all you had to do was ask."

"Gilbert. Kiss me."

"Well, I – wait, what?"

"I want you to kiss me. Now."

"Well, OK, yes, all right."

Gilbert was hardly going to turn down an offer like that. Especially when Roderich was looking so utterly delectable today, his normally pale face an attractive hue of pink, his lips looking so damn inviting....Gilbert moved in closer and covered Roderich's lips with his own. Roderich responded immediately, shifting his hands around Gilbert's neck to thread his fingers in Gilbert's hair. Gilbert loved it when he did that. He moved a deliberate hand slowly up Roderich's thigh as their kiss grew more intense. He teased Roderich's lips open with his tongue, eliciting a soft moan from the brunet.

He gently shifted so as to move Roderich back on to the bed, and settled his body on top of him as he explored Roderich's mouth with his tongue. Roderich was making wonderful little noises every time he touched him, and Gilbert was getting a little over-excited already. He and Roderich had not had sex in almost a week, and that was far too long. He broke off the kiss and moved his mouth further down, to kiss Roderich on the neck, gently biting, his hands sliding further up the other's shirt, unbuttoning, sliding it off, until they were both completely de-clothed.

"Gilbert....." Roderich mumbled in between fumbling kisses, gasping for breath as Gilbert stroked him deliberately slowly, teasing him so much Roderich was almost at breaking point – it really had been too long.

"Yes, dear....?" Roderich hated it when Gilbert called him that, but he never been quite sure why.

"Things are different, aren't they?"

Gilbert paused for a moment, pulling back to appraise his lover. Roderich was blushing in a way that would have put an inebriated Arthur to shame, a sentiment compounded by the embarrassingly obvious fact that he was painfully hard, and Gilbert's incessant rocking against him was hardly helping. Perhaps he would have to accept the fact that trying to have a serious conversation with Gilbert in the middle of sex was like trying to play the piano one-handed.

Gilbert, however, seemed unusually receptive to what he usually referred to as "Roderich's womanish emotional problems". He stopped his movements, and instead lay on top of Roderich, his head rested on Roderich's chest, his hand gently stroking his hair.

"Yeah. Things are different. I don't know why. But it doesn't feel right anymore, does it?"

Roderich did not know what to say. He knew what Gilbert was getting at, but could he bring himself to actually say what he was feeling?

"Gilbert...I feel differently about you than I did before. Things were simple before because we were just fooling around, there was no possibility of it turning into anything more."

Gilbert froze. "And now....you think there is?" he said hesitantly, one of the few times he'd ever been hesitant in his entire life.

Roderich could not look at Gilbert. He shut his eyes, and carried on bravely. "I...I have feelings for you, Gilbert. I would very much like to be in a relationship with you, but my mind is telling me it would be a terrible idea. We have next to nothing in common. We argue all the time. We infuriate each other."

"You don't infuriate me."

"Well, you infuriate me. Anyway, that's not the point and you know it, Gilbert. The point is....if I have to be in a relationship at all, I'd like it to be a stable one. I'm not like you. I dislike drama. I don't want to be constantly frustrated by my feelings. I don't want to be in relationship with someone I love so much it would kill me if it ended. I don't want to have to fight for it, Gilbert. It's just too tiring. I don't have the energy. I know it's a terrible thing to say, but you know perfectly well I'm not the romantic kind, nor the passionate kind. If I have to have love, it has to be easy love, or to me, it's not worth it."

Gilbert had not moved for the entire duration of this little speech. For the first time ever, he really wished Roderich had just kept his mouth shut. This was how he really felt, then. After all this time, he had thought Roderich really loved Elizaveta. Perhaps he had been wrong.

"So that's it, then." Muttered Gilbert. "I'm not worth it. I get it."

"You _don't._" Insisted Roderich. "You don't understand at all."

"I understand perfectly. You are in a stable, loveless relationship with Eliza. You have actual, real feelings for me, probably the first time you've ever experienced real love and it scares you so much, you aren't willing to take the risk. It's just not worth the risk, to you. _I'm _not worth the risk."

Roderich was biting back tears at this point. Neither he nor Gilbert had ever uttered the L word in reference to their relationship before, and hearing it spat at him like that, from the once person he didn't think he could bear to hear it from...it was too much.

But he was right. Gilbert was absolutely right about him. He was pathetic. A pansy. He _did _need to grow a pair. He just...couldn't. Gilbert was reckless, and frustrating, an endless enigma.

"No." He choked out. "You're not worth the risk."

Gilbert was already fully clothed by the time Roderich had managed to stutter out this sentence. By his next breath, Gilbert was at the door.

"I hope you realise how pathetic you are, Roderich Edelstein. You're all the same. You, Arthur, Lovi. You never appreciate what's right in front of you. So if you want to spend the rest of your life daydreaming about taking a chance on something, but never doing so because _it's just not sensible _then you can fucking well do it without me."

He slammed the door behind him.

---------------------------------

"Hey, I was watching that!" America pouted as Ivan flipped the channel.

Ivan smiled down at the lover he had encased in his arms on the couch. "Yes, dear _America, _but you must watch something that stimulates the mind occasionally."

Alfred craned his neck around to kiss Ivan, while at the same time snatching the remote back. "Cow and Chicken is completely mind-stimulating. It's, like, way surreal."

"Where did you learn that word?" grinned Ivan . "Did Matthew teach you that one?"

"Shut it." Warned Alfred.

They were interrupted by the doorbell.

---------------------------------------

_The Previous Night......._

"_Hey, there you are. You've been gone ages. I had to order dessert for you. I got you the tiramisu, is that OK?"_

_Alfred had rejoined the dinner party after a good half an hour's disappearance. Appreciative of a person's need to clear their head after an argument, Ivan had sensibly left him to his own devices and not come to search for him. He would never find out about Alfred's conversation with Arthur, and this was probably for the best. _

"_That's that thing that tastes like coffee, right? That's awesome, I love coffee!"_

"_I know, Alfred."_

_An uncomfortable pause. "Look, Ivan, we need to, um, talk. Can we maybe get out of here?"_

"_Of course."_

"_After I've eaten my tiramisu, I mean."_

"_Of course." Ivan smiled. "Oh, by the way, you had a missed call while you were gone. I checked your phone but didn't answer it. Under the circumstances, it would have been rather imprudent of me."_

"_Why, who was it?"_

_Ivan paused. "It was England."_

"_Arthur called?" Alfred spluttered through a mouthful of tiramisu._

"_Yes. Not that I am jealous, or anything, but is there any particular reason your ex-boyfriend, with whom you had a somewhat acrimonious break-up, would be calling you?" Ivan certainly sounded jealous._

_Alfred soured. "Why would you care? The more arguments we have, the better, right?"_

"_That is not what I meant and you know this perfectly well. Can I not have the opportunity to explain myself?"_

"_Don't see why you should, but I've been told to give you another chance, so I guess I should at least hear you out."_

_Ivan narrowed his eyes suspiciously. "Told? By whom?"_

"_Someone I care a lot about. No one you need to worry about. Look, I've finished. Come on, let's go."_

_Alfred and Ivan made their way towards what would hopefully be an unobtrusive exit. The night had not been wonderful, admittedly, but at least the tiramisu had been damn good. _

_They arrived back in their room at just after midnight. They sat on the bed, each preparing themselves for what was likely to be an uncomfortable conversation. _

_Alfred spoke first. "So. Just tell me, because I need to hear this. Did you mean what you said? Is that really the kind of relationship you want us to have?"_

_Ivan frowned. "It is hard to explain. You were wrong to insinuate that I liked it better when I was...you know. Communist. But at the same time, I cannot in good conscience pretend that I want us to have a healthy, normal, wholesome-as-apple-pie relationship, Alfred, I am simply not capable of it. Do you really think that we can ever be a normal couple?"_

"_It wouldn't hurt to at least try!" exclaimed Alfred. _

"_I am trying! Do you know how hard it is to try and force myself to be normal around you? To try and force myself not to slip into the darkness again? I just....I can't...." Ivan had begun to shake, fisting his hands in his hair in frustration. _

"_Hey, hey, calm down." Alfred said in what he hoped was a reassuring tone, putting an arm around his boyfriend. "It's OK. You don't have to explain. I just....I just really wanted things to be different this time, that's all. I didn't want us to be constantly sniping at each other. It gets boring, you know? Even heroes need to chill out for once."_

_Ivan sniffed. "I promise to try, Alfred."_

_Pause. "Thanks. Now, are we OK? Because I'd like to make good use of this fancy hotel room, that is, if you don't have any objections?"_

_Ivan grinned. "Certainly I don't."_

_-------------------------------------------_

"Hi, you guys!"

Ivan and Alfred immediately narrowed their eyes in suspicion at Hungary, both reflexively scanning her person for any sign of a camera. Ivan suspected she had gotten tired of tormenting Spain and Romano and had come to pick on them instead.

"Hungary. What's up?"

"Well," she began, a mischievous grin on her face. "I am such a dumbass! Remember when you had that house party?"

Alfred scowled. "The one where Arthur got so wasted he took a golf club to my favourite table and spent most of the night in the garage throwing empty whiskey bottles at the wall?"

Hungary smirked. "Yeah, that one. Well, I accidentally left my camera here. Do you mind if I come in and look for it?"

"Yes." Replied Ivan. "Because then you would be in possession of your camera, and this is something nobody wants."

Hungary pouted. "I wasn't asking _you, _Braginsky. It's Alfred's house. And that's a damn expensive camera. So can I look or not?"

"Yeah, sure. Where do you think you left it? We can help look."

"Well. I'm almost positive I left it in the basement."

Alfred visibly paled. "The basement? You mean....the...the basement?"

Hungary blinked. "Yes, Alfred, when people say basement they generally mean basement."

Ivan smirked. "Ah, but Alfred is terribly afraid of the basement, da?" He wrapped his arms protectively around Alfred.

"I'm telling you, there's ghosts down there!" Alfred scowled. "Even a hero can't defend himself against ghosts!"

"Fine." Shrugged Hungary. "It's cool, I'll go down there on my own."

"You can't do that!" protested Alfred. "I can't let you face the ghosts on your own. Ivan, go with her."

Ivan gave a wide-eyed smile. "Would you like that, Elizaveta?"

Hungary folded her arms. "I'd rather you didn't, personally, but I suppose it's up to Alfred. Oh, and it's Hungary to you, thanks very much."

Hungary gave herself a mental high-five. This was exactly what she had been hoping for. After all, who knew how long it would be before Ivan descended into the basement of his own volition?

"Then let us go."

Ivan swung open the basement door with a heavy creak. Hungary, obviously enthusiastic about the opportunity for voyeurism being returned to her, bolted down the stairs like a cat. Of course, she was really rushing ahead of Ivan to accomplish the part of her task that he mustn't be there for – the planting of the cell phone. She flipped the phone open on the way down, and found one of the offending texts. That should be enough to get Ivan's interest.

The basement was pitch black. Hungary placed the phone in an unobtrusive position on a nearby table. She flipped on the lights as Ivan descended and began her hunt for the "missing" camera.

After having unsuccessfully searched for a couple of minutes, Hungary gave up, and, with her back turned to Ivan surreptitiously removed her camera from her coat pocket, and turned around to procure it.

"Look! I found it!"

Ivan did not respond. He was staring at Alfred's phone, which was now in his hand.

"Hey." Said Hungary. "Is that your phone? It's nice."

"No." Said Ivan shortly. "It is not mine. It belongs to Alfred. Hungary, have you located your camera?"

She frowned at him. "Yeah, it's right here. Can we go back up now? It is kinda creepy down here, although I don't see any ghosts."

"Certainly." Replied Ivan flatly.

They ascended once again. Alfred was hiding behind the couch, awaiting their return.

"Did you get?" Alfred asked in a blatant attempt to sound casual.

"Yep!" replied Hungary happily, brandishing the camera.

"Good." Said Alfred. "And....did you see any ghosts?"

Hungary rolled her eyes. "Yeah, Al, I saw loads."

"Ohhhh! Ivan, go get rid of them!" whined Alfred, poking Ivan repeatedly.

"Hungary." Said Ivan shortly. "Now that you have your camera back, would you mind leaving us? There is something I would like to discuss with Alfred in private."

"Sure!" said Hungary brightly. "Roma and Spain are arguing about their pet turtle, and make-up sex is the hottest! I think I'll go over to their place....." Hungary was mumbling and giggling happily to herself by the time she was out the door.

Leaving Alfred and Ivan alone. "When are Spain and Romano not arguing?" laughed Alfred, attempting to break what he was feeling might be an uncomfortable silence. Ivan couldn't be mad at him, right? What had he done this time? "Or, rather, when is Romano not in a mood with Spain?"

"Right." Said Ivan slowly, still staring at the object in his hand. The object Alfred finally recognised.

"Hey! That's my phone! Where d'you find it?"

"You left it in the basement." Replied Ivan shortly. "Perhaps you have an explanation for this."

"For what?"

"_My love, I have been missing you all day. My passion for you burns with the fire of a thousand suns. I am counting down the hours until I can see your face again. Love you always." _Ivan read out.

Alfred looked as though he had been slapped. "W-what?"

"Oh, don't respond yet, there's more. _I dreamt of you last night, my Alfred. If only I could see you now, I could re-enact my dream. Cannot wait to see you tonight. Yours forever."_

"Ivan, I swear, I swear to God - "

"And there's messages back, too. Messages from you to your mysterious lover. Here's a great example of your handiwork." Ivan spat. "_Cnt wait 2 c u 2nite bbz, miss u. It's way uncool! My dumbass Russian bf still hasn't guessed we're fucking. He's like, stupida thn me! Luv u lots bbz, c u l8rz. Xxxxxxxxx"_

"Ivan, I promise you - "

"I'm not done. There's another message from you here. _Wish u were here wiv me insted of ivan bbz. U make me so horny. Wanna fuck u like now. Can u cum ova 2nite? Me n ivan had fight, mite not hav 2 sleep in same room as him. u wanna cum 2 my room? Tb asap bbz. Luv u. Xxxxx"_

Alfred was staring straight at Ivan, his startling blue eyes boring into Ivan's violet ones. "Am I allowed to give my explanation yet?" he asked.

"I suppose. It had better be a damn good one, Jones." Snarled Ivan. "I was not aware we were in an open relationship."

"We're not." Said Alfred, his tone almost pleading. "I swear to you, Ivan, those messages, I have no idea who they're from. You have to believe me. "

"I'm fairly certain that I do not have to believe you."

"Please, Ivan. I'm not lying to you. I don't know where those messages came from, I didn't send those. I haven't seen my cell since like, yesterday or something. I had it right before that dinner thing, I think, and I'm sure I've not seen it since."

Ivan was struck by the earnestness of Alfred's protests. Perhaps he was not lying. But then...no! He must be lying! Who other than Alfred would send text messages from Alfred's phone?

"I promise, Ivan. There's some kind of mistake. Someone must have picked my phone up by accident."

"And returned it to you by leaving it in your basement?" said Ivan sceptically.

"Well, I never go down there, so I can't have put it there, can I?!" Alfred folded his arms. Why wouldn't Ivan believe him?

But then, what? Ivan asked himself. If Alfred was being honest, what had happened? Surely if the texts were sent to the wrong number, whoever had Alfred's phone wouldn't have replied. Unless...the phone was stolen deliberately. Ivan thought back to when he had last seen it. It was the night of the diplomatic dinner, of course. Alfred had been in the bathroom, and Ivan had retrieved the phone to see who was calling. It had been England. Yes, of course , it was around the time he'd been ordering dessert. He remembered, because right after that the strangely familiar waiter had been admiring Alfred's jacket. And then, somehow, the phone had turned up in the basement, and –_click. _

Right. So that was it. The break-in. The suspicious waiter. The phone call. That damn alien. Those blueprints. The cell phone in the basement. It all made sense.

Ivan smiled at Alfred. "Alfred, I believe you."

"You do?"

"Of course I do. This was obviously nothing more than a harmless practical joke."

Alfred pouted. "I don't call that harmless. Not if it gets you so mad at me. Hell, we might have broken up if you didn't believe me."

Ivan wrapped his arms around Alfred, pressing a kiss to his forehead. "Indeed we might. But we haven't. I shall not be giving you up so easily."

"Good." Mumbled Alfred, kissing Ivan on the cheek.

_Yes. _Thought Ivan. _Certainly you are a devious one. But I shall not be tricked that easily. Mr Kirkland, Mr Bonnefoy, you don't know who you're dealing with, do you? _Thought Ivan with a giggle.

_Bring it on. _

------------------------------------

END CHAPTER

A/N: The golf club table smashing thing? Happened. At my brother's house party. A couple of his drunk emo mates thought it would a be laugh. It was quite funny.


	9. Chapter 9

A/N: OK, here's the situation: I'm back at university, and am likely to be very busy indeed over the next few weeks especially. It is exceptionally unlikely that updates will come more frequently than weekly from now on. Thankfully, this fanfic is kind of moving into its final section, and after this, there'll probably be a maximum of four more chapters.

Chapter Nine: Dear Diary, Mood: Apathetic

Friday 14th November, Warsaw

_I'm, like, totally bugging about this conference. It's in literally a week and I'm so unready. It's, like, completely not my fault if whenever I sit down to start doing work, The Hills comes on. That is like seriously the best show on TV. For real. _

_OMG, Feli came over the other day, and I was showing him how awesome My Super Sweet 16 is, and he started talking about his new bf. Him and Germany are, like, official now. It's totes adorable, right, diary? I know you agree with me. Those two are so cute. _

_I only wish my boyfriend was as awesome as Feli. I mean, I love Liet. Like, I think I'm in love with him. And he's been acting really weird for like two weeks now. In fact, he's been really mopey and pathetic and all he does is sit around the house and he sometimes cleans. Whenever I'm over there he's cleaning. He was never this way before. Like, before, whenever he saw me, it'd be like everything just got 10 times awesomer. But now everything's going wrong. It's all because of Russia. Man, I hate that guy so much. He's not even here, and he's managing to screw things up between me and Liet. Liet misses him. It's so wrong. He got a call from Russia the other day. He took it into the bathroom and didn't come out for like an hour. And when he did I could totally tell he'd been crying. _

_It's not fair. I love Liet more than that bastard ever could. It's so totally unfair._

_Anyway, whatever. I have to go. _

_Laterz!_

_Feliks_

14.11. – Friday. Sicily. 

_Have been here three days. Want to kill self. Feliciano will not stop bothering me for sex, even though I have told him repeatedly it makes me uncomfortable to do that sort of thing in someone else's house, when aforementioned other people can hear us. _

_Not that that seems to be a problem for them. Antonio and Lovino spend most of the evening arguing in their bedroom, which is right across the hall from ours. After a while we hear nothing, and then they start making up in the loudest and most disturbing way possible. It disturbs me more than anything else to know first hand that Feliciano's brother is a screamer, but it doesn't seem to be bothering Feliciano at all. He just keeps saying we should be doing the same thing. _

_And I'm worried about the dogs. I left them in Gilbert's care, and, given the mood he's in at the moment, I wouldn't be surprised if they were dead by now from lack of food or water. It's a horrible thought, actually. As a matter of fact, I'd be shocked if Gilbert remembered to feed himself these days. I gather the "secret" relationship he was having with Roderich has collapsed. He seems to be upset to the point of literally not caring what happens to him. He mopes around all the time, he never answers my questions with full sentences (which is very annoying!) and he doesn't want to see any of his friends. He refused to go out to our usual drinks meet-up this week, and Denmark was most disappointed. It's not like him. He hasn't used the word "awesome" in days. He's neglecting Gilbird. Honestly, if I knew Roderich Edelstein was going to cause this much trouble, I would have tried to talk some sense into him myself. The other day I found Gilbert in the garage, throwing darts at Roderich's picture. _

_At least no one is really fighting too much. That's something to be grateful for. _

_Hold on. I need to get my iPod. Antonio and Lovino are.....well, you understand. _

_Back. Much better. I'm very glad the conference is soon. It will give Feliciano and I the chance to escape this hell-hole. Although, I'll be most dismayed if we stay more than two more days, if I'm honest. _

_All we ever eat here is pasta and tomatoes. _

_Good day. _

_Ludwig_

Saturday November 15th , Paris

_The mobile phone plan was a fucking disaster. Hungary says they made up almost instantly. Also that they really need to leave their windows shut when they know she's about. Francis keeps saying we need to unleash our "secret weapon" but I'm really not sure what the bloody hell he's talking about. _

_I'm thinking about giving up. Al isn't interested anymore. And why should he be? I dumped him. I was the dickhead. I was the one who fucked everything up. I just never thought he'd get back with Ivan. After all that happened to them last century, I thought their relationship was buggered for good. And I can't say I was particularly unhappy about that, if I'm honest. When they broke up in '46 it was a damn good day. I won't bother denying it to you, journal. I did want him, much to my dismay. Still do. Fuck me, I still love him. _

_Forgive me if I'm a little ratty tonight, journal. I'm out of tea, that blasted frog only drinks wine. I'm staying at his place for the weekend and the nearest shop only sells coffee. _

_We've got something else planned for tomorrow. Francis is pretty much throwing himself to the lions. He's going to try and get Russia drunk enough that he'll sleep with him. Francis seems to be offended by my insinuation that Russia needed to be drunk at all to want to sleep with him. I had to carefully remind him that not everyone on the planet wants to have sex with him. He responded to that by trying to grope me. He's now sporting a lovely black eye. _

_I have to go, Francis says dinner's ready. _

_Until later, then,_

_Arthur Kirkland. _

Sunday November 16th , Montreal

_I'm really worried. Arthur and Francis are planning something, I'm sure of it. Those two have been acting suspiciously for days and I can't understand why. At the last meeting we all had they spent the whole time passing notes to each other. Let's just say I've certainly never seen Arthur act like a 14-year old schoolgirl before. I have been wondering if something is going on between those two. Francis once told me he and Arthur were together a really long time ago, but that they had a horribly messy break-up. _

_I'm glad me and Francis' break-up wasn't too horrible. It's nice to still have him as a friend, you know? I sometimes miss talking to him, although he can be a bit perverted sometimes. OK, all the time. _

_Ukraine and I went to the movies last night. She held my hand in the movie theatre. I'm not sure how I feel about this. I mean, it felt good, but it was weird. I like her a lot, she's so much fun to have around, and she's very sweet. She sure talks about her little sister a lot, though. Natalia has been going out with Australia. I don't think anyone knows yet apart from me and Ukraine. I'm not going to tell anyone, because I don't think Ukraine would be very happy, and I don't want Belarus to break my fingers, like she did to Lithuania...._

_It's very strange becoming part of their circle. It's like, I'm Ukraine's friend, and by extension, I hang with Bela and Russia too. And those two are going out with Al and Australia, and they're my friends already, and it all comes back around...._

_I'm rambling. I'm sorry. It's because when I worry I tend to ramble about things that aren't that important or don't make any sense. I do worry. Not just about Francis and Arthur, but about Al too._

_Him and Russia are getting serious. I think. I mean, I'm not totally sure, and I don't want to say something wrong. I was staying with them last night, because I haven't seen Al in a while, and we wanted to hang out. Anyway, I was going to the bathroom, and I walked past their room, and I couldn't help but hear what they were saying. Really, I would have walked right past, but the thing is, they said my name. _

_Alfred said "I don't want Matt to think we're fighting again. He already thinks our relationship is unstable enough. He's worrying about me. I may not be the sharpest tool in the shed, but I can always tell when Matt's worried."_

_And Russia said "Do not worry, my darling, all will be well. Do you want me to speak to him? Reassure him, perhaps?"_

_And Al said "No, it's OK. I'll talk to him. I just want to let him know that it's not going to end up like last time, with us at each other's throats for fifty years...."_

_And Russia said "I know. Matthew is not the only one to hope that does not happen to us again."_

_And Al said "You know, despite being such a creeper sometimes, you can be really sweet, you know?"_

_And then I didn't hear anyone talking but I heard the bed squeak and I think they were kissing. _

_It's weird. Because, you know, they've only been going out for like two weeks and a bit. Or something like that. But then again, Alfred does have a bit of a tendency to rush into things. And I think Ivan has kind of still been carrying a torch for Al ever since they broke up. He's certainly always been colder to Arthur than was strictly necessary. I don't blame him for being really happy that they're back together. _

_Anyway, I hope no one thinks I was deliberately trying to listen in. :( _

_I have to go, Ukraine's here. We're going to dinner. I think I'll call Francis when I get back. I want to know what's going on with him and Arthur. _

_I hope you don't think I'm being terribly nosy, diary. _

_Love always._

_Matt_

Monday November 17th, Sicily

_I am in LOVE with my life! Everything is going so great! OK, so we all had a picnic out in the field the other day, and everyone had such a great time! Lovi especially seemed to be enjoying himself. He wasn't such a grumpy-guts. He's usually in such a bad mood, and I can't understand why!_

_Tonight me and Lovi are celebrating our 2-year anniversary. I'm so excited! I have the most awesome thing planned for us. Well, you remember when I told you about how me and Lovi got together? We were in the barn, and he was being his usual miserable self, complaining about the tomato harvest being bad that year, and saying how maybe if Feli was there instead of him....you know the story. Anyway, I told him that it would suck a lot if Feli was there instead of him, because then I wouldn't be able to be with him. And he went as red as a tomato! It was so adorable! And he told me to shut up and stop teasing him, and that I was an asshole and he hated me. And I got upset and said I wished he wouldn't be so mean to me, and that I was only trying to show him how much I loved him. He thought I was joking! But then I just couldn't help myself anymore, and I started kissing him. It was so cool! And he started kissing me back, and one thing led to another...._

_Anyway, tonight, I've prepared a really romantic candlelight home-cooked dinner for us in the barn, and I'm really hoping he likes it. I'm a bit nervous, actually. I don't want Lovi to think I'm being too sentimental or sappy. I'll even make sure Mr. Turtle stays in his terrarium if Lovi wants. I know he hates it when Mr. Turtle is watching us...._

_Lovi says he thinks I'm too optimistic. Well, to be honest, anyone's optimistic compared to him! (except Arthur, ha ha). I say Lovi just can't believe his luck that he has me as a boyfriend! Well, he'll just have to get used to the fact that I won't be leaving him anytime soon. _

_Must run, it's time for a siesta!_

_Antonio_

Monday 17.11 Home. 

_I bet that bastard's forgotten. It'd be just like him to forget. He'll come out with some stupid excuse. Not that I care if he forgets. He's such a jerk sometimes. _

_Whatever. It's not like our 2-year anniversary is important or anything. It's not like we're some stupid married couple (ew....). Yesterday, we had to go to some fucking awful picnic outside. I hate fun family activities, and picnics especially infuriate me. And that damn potato-bastard was there, feeding grapes to Feli like they were a couple....oh, I forgot, they ARE a couple. It's disgusting. They act like two dumb teenagers in love anytime they see each other, it's enough to make me want to retch. It's bad enough that I have to live with that dumbass Antonio, who acts like that all the time. It makes me sick to my stomach seeing that bastard with his hands on my brother, acting like he CARES about him. As if. He just wants to get into Feli's pants. Well, good luck with that! I know for a fact those two haven't slept together yet. The walls here are really thin, we would have heard. I bet he's begging Feli to have sex, and Feli's keeping the bastard waiting. Here's hoping he keeps him waiting forever!_

_The conference is in four days. At Roderich's house. Ha, I heard potato-bastard and Feli talking the other night (I was eavesdropping, so sue me) and it sounded like potato-bastard said that his weirdo brother was in love with Roderich Edelstein. Maybe I heard wrong. Whatever. I hope it is true, because Roderich is still with that denizen of the night, that minion of all that is unholy, Elizaveta Hedervary. I caught her the other day, camera in hand, up a tree of all things, trying to take pictures of me and Antonio, um....you know. _

_Whatever. I'm gonna go. There's something I need to...take care of in the basement. OK, well, despite the fact that Antonio's such a jerk and would never have got me anything for our anniversary, I'm proving what a superior boyfriend I am and I went and got him something I found at the beach. It's a girl turtle, to be a companion for Mr. Turtle. Because I know how much that stupid jerk loves that damn turtle, and I want him to be....well, not happy, per se, but....OK, yeah. Happy. _

_Later. Gonna go drown myself for being such a goddamn romantic pathetic sap. _

_Lovino Vargas._

---------------

**Date: **17.11

**Time: **02:46

**Name: **Bonnefoy, Francis

**Nature of Injury: **Broken Nose

**Cause of Injury: **Patient was a bloody moron.

"Hey, you can't put that! Fill it out properly, please, _mon cher _Arthur. I am in a tremendous amount of pain right now, and I would appreciate a little sympathy."

"Sympathy? You idiot, how could you think I'd be sympathetic after tonight? What did you think Ivan was going to do? Decide you were just too sexy and he couldn't resist cheating on his boyfriend with you?"

"Well....yes."

"It doesn't work like that. I told you that a hundred times, and still you insisted on going through with this fool plan of yours. For a start, I told you Russia handles his alcohol and whole hell of a lot better than anyone else."

Francis tried to smirk, but any facial movement just pained his poor broken nose even more. "Particularly you, _Angleterre._"

"Shut up, you wanker. At least I didn't think it was a brilliant idea to get myself completely out of my mind pissed and try to molest Ivan Braginsky, of all people. I mean, not that it wasn't funny to watch you get your nose rearranged for you, but come on! These plans are getting worse and worse by the day!"

Francis thought. Yes. Yes, he must bring out the ultimate weapon. "Arthur. You do know that all of these plans have just been to test the waters, yes?"

"Eh?"

"Surely you realise there is only one thing that even has a shot of working."

"No. We can't."

"We must."

"It's not fair. He's an innocent person. We can't use him like this. I won't."

"Then you shall spend the rest of your miserable life watching the man you love give his whole heart to somebody else. Do you know what that feels like, Arthur? It is the most painful thing it is possible to experience, even more painful that this mere broken nose."

Arthur felt a slight twinge of sympathy for Francis, coupled with a painful feeling in his chest. He was not sure what had occasioned such a pain, and so he chose to ignore it. "So. Still hung up on Matt, I take it?"

Francis did not answer. He could not lie to Arthur any longer, so he decided that silence was the best answer he could give.

"Don't worry about it. You'll find someone else."

Francis snorted (bad idea). "Would you be receptive if someone gave you that advice, _mon ami?_"

"Well. I suppose not."

"So, we are in agreement, yes? We must put this final plan into motion? We can use dear Elizaveta to capture the moment on film. This is guaranteed to work, Arthur."

Arthur sighed. "I know it is."

--------------------------------------------------

Tuesday November 18th, Vienna

_It is totally and completely working. Like, I'm super serious. It's so working! OMG, they're so stupid, both of them! I should get some sort of award for my insane awesomeness and selflessness in bringing two people who were totally MFEO together. _

_It shouldn't be much longer now. I can see it working already. He's getting more and more mad! It's actually so funny. Well, it would be if he wasn't so tormented. I mean, I do love him, and everything, and because it's such a pure and selfless love, this is why I want to see him happy. It is completely not because of the man sex. Not at all._

_Three days til the conference._

_I have this feeling....that this conference is where it's all going to come to a head, the events of the last couple of weeks. After all, we've got the whole Alfred-Ivan-Arthur situation to sort out too. _

_I can't wait. _

_Elizaveta_

Wednesday, 18th Nov, London

_We sent the letters. I don't want to do this anymore. _

_A.K._

Wednesday 18th November, 6pm, Moscow

"Liet! Post's here!" Feliks called out.

Toris gave a weary sigh and heaved himself out of bed. The evening post had arrived. Toris and Feliks had been busy that afternoon, and Toris was not exactly fully clothed. He threw on a robe and pottered downstairs, where Feliks was sifting through the mail.

"One for Eduard, one for Raivis, bill, bill, junk, another one for Raivis, hey, it's from Stockholm, and isn't that Peter's writing? Whatevs. Another for Eduard, and hey! One for Toris." Feliks smiled brightly and handed over Toris's letter. It was a small white envelope, and the stamp was from the United States of America.

Toris' expression obviously faltered as he read the letter. "Are you OK, Liet? Who's it from?"

"Alfred." Toris responded immediately. "He was just writing to make sure I was OK. I suppose I'd better write back."

"OK." Shrugged Feliks, wondering how such a simple letter could make Toris look that way, but accepting of his boyfriend's explanation.

"By the way" said Toris, trying to sound as casual as he possibly could. "I have to go out tomorrow, around lunchtime. Just have some shopping to do."

"Sure!" said Feliks brightly. "Can I come? I love shopping!"

"No." Said Toris. "Sorry, but you can't. I'm...I'm buying your birthday gift."

"Oh!" exclaimed Feliks. "Well, OK then!"

"Let's go back to bed."

Toris hastily stuffed the letter in his robe pocket.

_My dearest, most precious Toris,_

_It has been far too long since I have seen your smiling face, my sunflower. I cannot wait until the conference. Would you be so kind as to meet me tomorrow? You know where. We can meet at midday. I thought we might have lunch together. _

_You can catch me up on everything that has happened since I have been away. I want to know how Eduard and darling Raivis have been getting on without me around. And most importantly, I want to know how you are. It is so lonely here without you. Alfred and I are having a great deal of fun, but it is not the same. _

_Please meet with me. I will wait for you. _

_For now, forever,_

_Yours._

_Ivan._

_---------------------------_

Wednesday, Nov 18th, New York City

"Oi, Ivan! Mail!"

"Da? Is there anything for me?"

Alfred hopped back on the bed, and snuggled back into Ivan's chest, pulling himself underneath the bedcovers. "Yep. From Moscow."

Ivan raised an eyebrow. "Oh? Perhaps it is from one of my subordinates, advising me as to how my house is being run without me. Or perhaps it is from Natalia." He gave an involuntary shudder.

Ivan deftly opened the letter and read. As soon as he read the signature, he leapt out of bed and turned away from Alfred.

"Forgive me, Alfred. It is private personal correspondence from my boss. I would not want to betray any national secrets. You do not mind?"

"Of course not." Said Alfred with a soft smile.

Ivan scanned the letter with his quick eyes, his brain moving just as swiftly.

"I apologize, Alfred. I must leave you tomorrow."

"Why?"

"My boss wants to me meet with him tomorrow morning as a matter of urgency. It is in my mind that he is wanting to discuss the conference. In fact, I should leave now. It will almost be the evening in Moscow by now."

"OK." Said Alfred. "When are you coming back?"

"I shall be back by tomorrow evening. We can still leave together for the conference on Friday, do not worry. I shall make sure I am here again with you soon."

Ivan was already shoving stuff in an overnight bag, only pausing to give Alfred a quick kiss on the forehead before running out the door.

_Ivan,_

_I hope you don't mind me writing to you like this. I just thought you might be missing home a bit. We miss you. I miss you. _

_I just thought, maybe, if you're not too busy, you might want to meet up with me, or something, before the conference? Perhaps we could discuss strategy. I don't know. I feel silly writing to you like this, but I just thought that maybe you might want to come back and see __me, uh, I mean __us again. _

_Anyway, I know you're probably really busy, and you don't have time for me, but if you did want to have lunch, then I'll be waiting for you at midday on Thursday in our secret place. _

_I hope you can make it. But if not, that's OK too. _

_Bye for now (and I hope I didn't bother you with this letter!)_

_Toris._

-------------------------------------

END CHAPTER


	10. Chapter 10

A/N: GAH I'm soooooo sorry I've been so long updating. I've been really, really busy. University this year is evidently going to require exponentially more work than last year. So, I apologize massively for the delay in this chapter appearing. Hopefully (although I can't promise anything) the next one should be along a bit sooner.

Chapter 10 – Fatally Yours

Thursday, November 20th, Moscow

It was a few minutes to midday when Toris saw Ivan's familiar figure turn the corner and approach him. He gave a wary smile to the man as he came closer to the small, humble flower stand where the two had first met. Of course, on the day that Ivan had met Toris, aforementioned flower stand did not exist. Even the large building it stood outside did not. In those days, this corner had been but a small patch of icy land where nothing grew apart from the occasional sunflower in the summertime. It had become Ivan's favourite place in the world, and sometimes he would go there to reflect, only to find Toris there too.

Nowadays, the tall, barbed wire gates surrounding the corporate building dwarfed the lowly flower stall. However, the stall sold not just roses, tulips and orchids, but sunflowers as well. And that was why Ivan believed he and Toris would always have this spot to meet – it would always be theirs, just theirs. Despite the hustle and bustle of the big city, Toris saw only Ivan as the violet-eyed man approached him. He pushed thoughts of Russia's violence, his fragility, his obsessive love from his mind, and tried to focus only on the man standing before him.

"Ivan."

"Toris."

Toris blushed slightly. Ivan placed a warm hand on his shoulder (he must have been wearing gloves). "Would you like to get something to eat, Toris? You must be hungry."

Why was it that Ivan could make him shudder with just one innocent smile? Memories of times gone past, both pleasant and unpleasant, surfaced in his mind like bubbles rising to the surface of a deep lake. How could he forget?

"Yes. Yes, I'd like that."

They walked, Ivan's arm around Toris, to the nearest cafe, a small place across the street. They sat together, placed their orders, and were silent.

"So. Toris. I'd be glad to know how my house is being run in my absence."

"Oh...Oh, of course. It's, um, well, it's fine, I suppose. Raivis seems to be getting along well with Peter."

"Sealand? Not a friendship I should have expected to form." Said Ivan, his eyes darkening a little. For a terrible moment Toris was afraid Ivan was going to tell him he had to stop Raivis and Peter seeing each other.

But Ivan simply smiled in his childlike way and continued. "It is nice that young Latvia has a companion. I shall permit it."

The drinks came. A small coffee for Toris, and an orange juice for Ivan. Which was very quickly turned into a triple vodka and orange, thanks to the hip flask perennially on Ivan's person.

"And Estonia....well. He does his share of household chores, of course, and apart from that spends a great deal of time on his computer. You know how he is. And lately he's been going out with Denmark."

Ivan raised an eyebrow at Toris very pointedly. "You do not mean....?"

Toris blushed. "Oh, no, not like that! I mean, they're friends. I think Denmark's been ever so lonely lately. You know Iceland and Norway are a couple now? And Prussia's been in a terrible mood recently, so they never go out drinking anymore. Plus France and England are...you know. And I think Denmark's getting bored. I mean, I only know what Eduard's told me, of course."

Russia smiled. "What is it you say about France and England? I am interested."

Toris raised an inquisitive eyebrow. "I thought you'd know if anyone did. You spend all that time with that crowd now. I don't really know what's going on with them, but they seem to spend practically all their time together. And whenever England's with France, he looks....like, really, really happy. I've never seen him that pleased to be around Francis before. Usually they're at each other's throats the whole time. Of course, so are you and Alfred....."

Russia coughed. "Toris. France and England?"

"Oh, yes! I'm sorry, Ivan. What I was saying was, I think Arthur's become very fond indeed of Francis. I see him looking at him sometimes, when he thinks no one's watching."

"This is intriguing, Toris. Thank you for telling me this. However, I feel I must inform you that France and England are not a couple."

Toris shuffled his feet a little, sipping his coffee. "They're not? Well, they ought to be. I've not seen England with a smile on his face since he and Alfred broke up. He seems so much happier now."

"Toris. England is still in love with America."

Toris gasped. "Really? How do you know? I mean, I'm sorry! I'm probably being really nosy, I don't...."

"I have my ways. And as far as I can see, the feeling is mutual."

Toris felt a rather sharp pain where his heart ought to be. America and England? Getting back together? If that happened, then Ivan would run straight back home....to Toris.

But Toris had Feliks now.

"I'm sure that's not true, Ivan."

Ivan banged his glass on the table, it having been drained of all it contained. "Let us talk of something else. You wanted to discuss strategy?"

Toris frowned in confusion. "I did?"

Ivan nodded. "Yes. The conference?"

Toris now looked exceptionally baffled. "When did I say this? We haven't spoken in weeks, Ivan."

Thankfully Ivan's brain worked especially quickly. "Never mind, Toris. I must be confused. What I meant was, in the letter I wrote to you, asking you to meet me here, I meant to write that I wanted to discuss strategy."

"Oh." Toris was no less confused, but accepted the explanation. "Your letter, by the way. It was very sweet. If you don't mind my saying so."

_Of course I mind, _thought Ivan to himself, _since I didn't write it. So is this really how you want to play it, Kirkland? You'll stoop so low as to use an innocent boy? Toris? MY Toris? _

"Toris? Would you mind giving me that letter I wrote to you, asking me to meet you here? I'd like to keep it. If you have it with you, of course."

Toris once again did not object at the strange request. Ivan was in a very odd mood today, he kept saying things that didn't quite make sense, and then abruptly changing the subject. Toris really didn't feel like being a punching bag today. He hoped and prayed Ivan wasn't in one of those moods.

"Here it is."

Ivan scanned the letter, and could not help but be amused. He had to admit, Arthur was good. However, he distinctly detected Francis Bonnefoy's hand in this. He hardly thought Arthur was creative enough for this kind of stunt.

"Thank you, Toris. I appreciate you telling me all of this. I feel very out of the loop at America's house."

Toris blushed further. "Oh, well, you know. I'm kept very well informed of all the gossip. Not necessarily the important political issues, but certainly who's sleeping with who. I am...still good friends with Feliks, after all."

Ivan eyes fluttered with darkness, and Toris felt an involuntary shudder run down his body. "You and Feliks are.....?" he trailed off, unwilling to finish the question, but trusting Toris knew what he was getting at.

"Yes." Replied Toris, a burst of confidence suddenly filling him as he thought of Feliks. "He asked me out. And I said yes."

Toris expected Ivan to get angry, to threaten him, to at least "kol" for a little while. What he did not expect was for Ivan to bury his head in his hands and start....was Ivan _crying? _

This wasn't right at all. Toris felt awful. Since when had Ivan been a crier? He awkwardly reached out to pat Ivan on the arm, in a vague attempt to comfort him. Ivan sniffled.

"I'm sorry, Toris. I should go."

Toris panicked. With the state Ivan was in at the moment, who knew what he would do? "No!"

"No?"

"Please. I don't want you to leave. Please just stay here for a while. Or we can go outside, if you'd rather. Do you want to go and sit on that bench near the flower stall? Maybe we could talk for a little while without all these people around."

Toris could hardly deny that a grown man loudly crying in a coffee shop attracted some attention. He clasped Ivan's hand in his own and gently led him outside, like teaching a baby deer to walk for the first time.

Or leading a lamb to the slaughter.

--------------------------

Spain grinned broadly, kissing Mrs. Turtle on her scaly head and he bounded towards the door. There was only one person that knocked like that. No matter how supposedly depressed he was.

Spain threw the door open and swiftly threw his arms around his companion. "Gilbert!" he exclaimed. "It's been so long since you've visited!"

Gilbert grunted, shuffling inside. "You're in a good mood." He commented. "As per usual."

Antonio frowned. "And you're in an unusually bad one. Please, talk to me, Gilbert! I can help! Is it a matter of love?"

"Yeah." Muttered Gilbert, spreading himself out on Antonio's couch and stretching his weary limbs. "Where's loverboy?"

Antonio smiled fondly. "He went to see darling Feli before the conference starts tomorrow. They're driving down together. You know what he got me for our anniversary? Another turtle! A girl one, to be a companion for Mr. Turtle. It was so cute! I never thought he cared about Mr. Turtle! He must really like him after all!"

Gilbert snorted. "You really are the most oblivious thing on this earth, Antonio. It's you he's mad about, not that goddamn turtle. He got that because he thought it would make you happy. Haven't you realised by now that Lovino is the kind of guy that can't ever tell you how he's feeling? He needs to show you he loves you with actions rather than words. Dumbass."

"Oh!" said Antonio happily. "Well, that's a good thing, then!"

Gilbert rolled his eyes. "I came here for romantic advice from you, not the other way around." He grumbled.

"And here I thought you were far too awesome for a silly little thing like love." Smirked Antonio.

"I am!" snapped Gilbert. "It wasn't fair, it sneaked up on me when I was least expecting it!"

"Love does have the tendency to do that." Agreed Antonio. "Just out of curiosity, why didn't you go to Francis for this particular problem?"

"I have." Replied Gilbert. "He's too busy crying over Arthur to help."

"I see. So, what seems to be the problem?" asked Antonio, putting on his most serious face.

"It's bloody Roderich. He's being his usual womanish self. I'm telling you, he really needs to grow a pair of balls, he's such a pathetic mess, it's not even funny, and - "

"Gilbert. Why don't you stop insulting him and tell me what the problem really is?"

Gilbert sighed. Fucking feelings. "I.....I'm the pathetic mess. Because of him. Because of Roderich fucking Edelstein and I don't know what the hell to do about it. I can't make him admit that he loves me. Or make him dump Eliza and run off with me. I don't think he'll ever come to his senses. I just...I really, really wish he would. It just hurts like a son-of-a-bitch that he doesn't care enough about me to take a chance on something for once in his miserable excuse for a life. I know, deep down, that if he really did love me, he would take the chance. Not even he would ignore feelings like that. Which can only mean he doesn't even care about me as much as his precious reputation."

Antonio shook his head. "It's his sanity he cares about."

"Huh?"

"The reason he doesn't want to take the chance is because he knows there's a good possibility it'll never work out. He knows you. He's known you for hundreds of years. Don't you think there's a slight possibility he's afraid that if he gives you his whole heart, you'll reject it? That you'll get bored with him once you have him for good and leave? That you'll start to feel trapped and that you'll want out?"

Gilbert snorted. "Want out? Yeah, I see where you're coming from. Commitment isn't exactly my strong point. And I'll admit I tend to flip once I have someone for good."

"You like the chase." Said Antonio simply. "And Roderich knows it. I know him quite well, remember. I know what thoughts are going through his simple little head at the moment. He thinks you only want him because you can't have him. And I'm not sure I disagree with him entirely."

"You know me too bloody well." Sighed Gilbert. "I just....can't imagine why I'd want to leave him once I have him. He's so goddamn beautiful. I don't see how there could ever be anyone else I'd want more. I want to wake up next to him every morning, and go to sleep beside him every night. I want to cook breakfast for him and bring it to him in bed. I want to hold him when I see him at work in his study and make him realise he's been there for eight hours. I want to bring him chocolate cake when he's too busy to do it himself. I want him to pick me up from a bar when I'm too pissed to get up off the ground and drive me home. And scold me for doing so. I want to take the hit for him every time Eliza threatens him with a frying pan. And I'd want him to do the same for me. I want to wake up in the afternoon after a night out to the sound of him playing his piano, and know that the song he's playing is for me."

Antonio was gobsmacked. "I....I had no idea you felt like that."

Gilbert frowned. "Neither did I, until just now. God fucking damn, I'm turning into a bigger sap than Francis. If I ever get like that again, feel free to smack me one. Fuck me, I feel like shit now. I think I'm gonna go."

"Go where?"

Gilbert shrugged. "I've got some vodka. Maybe I'll head down to the underpass and drink until I can't remember my fucking name. Maybe I'll down the rest of that bleach. Maybe I'll find Denmark and we can kill the rest of those rats we found. Maybe I'll stick a fork in a socket. I hear that's quite an experience. That's just how I do romance."

Antonio shrugged. He knew it was safer to stay away from Gilbert when he got in moods like this. "OK." He said quietly. "But before you go, can I give you one piece of advice? Just so you don't walk away empty handed?"

Gilbert gave a vicious grin. "I'm not empty handed." He said, swinging the vodka bottle between his fingers. "I've got this."

Antonio ignored him and pressed on. "Have you considered telling him all of that stuff? What you said about wanting to bring him cake? I think he'd be receptive."

"He's receptive to anything that involves cake, or my misery." Shot back Gilbert.

"I'm being serious. Tell him what you just told me. He'll come around. I promise you, he'll come around."

Gilbert shrugged. "How do you know?"

Antonio gave a wan smile. "I met one just like him a long time ago. I made him come around about...oh, two years ago now."

--------------------------------------------------

"I want you to tell me what's going on." Toris said firmly, his arm around Ivan's shoulder. They had moved away from the cafe to sit on a bench in a secluded part of woodland nearby.

"I am in darkness. Again." Said Ivan, who was shaking slightly. "I should not have come back here."

Toris tightened his grip. "Is it because of me?"

"Yes." Replied Ivan. "I have many, many unpleasant memories of my time with you."

"You're not the only one." Said Toris with a bitterness in his voice, the kind he would never have dared to use around Ivan once upon a time. For one horrifying moment, Ivan stiffened, and Toris was afraid he was going to be punished. But Ivan simply relaxed again, and continued.

"I have never apologized to you. I do so now. I cannot possibly expect you to accept my apology, my Toris, but I offer it to you."

"Of course I'll accept it." Said Toris hastily.

"I believed that I had to use violence and force to keep you from leaving. I believed the only way you would not abandon me like everyone else was if I made you afraid to do so. I never, for a second, considered making you stay through love rather than fear."

Toris gulped. "I did love you." He said, garbling the words slightly. "I hated you, as well. Of course I did. I hated how you made me feel. I tried with every fibre of my being to hate you for what you did to me, and for the most part, I did. But there are some parts of me that need darkness too. I would never let myself succumb to those parts of me. But it was when I was with you that I most wanted to."

"I see." Said Ivan, the words taking some time to register properly. Toris had loved him after all.

"Do you want to tell me about you and Alfred? I'd like to hear." Remarked Toris. "If you don't mind, that is. Perhaps I can help."

"No one can help me." Whispered Ivan. "I can never be the person that Alfred wants me to be. He wants normality. A perfect relationship, fit for a hero. He seems to think that everything that has happened between us can simply be erased. The past can never be erased. It is the past that shapes us. As countries, and as people. Alfred wants to forget everything that has happened between he and I prior to three weeks ago, it seems."

Toris sniffed, but did not speak. Ivan seemed to be letting go of something he had been holding on to for a while. He let him carry on.

"I do not want to remind Alfred of painful times. I do not want to make him remember the day he held a gun to my head in the snow and pulled the trigger, not knowing there were no bullets left. Nor the day in 1969 when he came to laugh at me, unashamedly, when he took my dignity from me, pushed me against the wall and forced himself on me, when I just let it happen. Nor the day he found me lying in a field of sunflowers, my blood staining their precious petals.....No, Alfred cannot think of these things. But I think of them. I think of them every time he holds me, every time I lie above him and fuck him, I see an empty gun barrel. Every time I look at his hair I see a sunflower spattered with blood. Every time I look into his eyes I see the sky above that field. And I know that when he touches my skin he feels the snow we fell into that day. But he'll never think about it. He'll never let himself. Just in the same way that he'll never go out in the rain without an umbrella, for fear of painful memories of 1776 being brought back to him. He is still such a child."

Toris was silent. He did not know what to say. Other than..."I'm sorry, Ivan. This is my fault."

"No, Toris. It is not. It is mine. It is always mine."

"You and Alfred can still have a chance. You need to talk to him about this, really."

Ivan shrugged. "If, indeed, he has not broken up with me for seeing you today."

"Why would he do that?"

"I did not write you that letter, asking you to meet me here. I received one which purported to be from you."

Toris gasped. "I never wrote to you!"

"I have realised that."

"Then who did? And why?"

Ivan saw no point in lying to Toris. "Arthur Kirkland and Francis Bonnefoy are trying to break us up. Presumably the reason is so that Alfred and Arthur will get back together. They seemed to think that the two of us meeting was an optimum solution. And I must say, they were quite correct. They probably have their loyal photographer, Hungary, lying around somewhere, doing their dirty work."

"You mean taking pictures of us together?" asked Toris with an expression of abject horror on his face.

"Exactly." Said Ivan wearily. "Why do you think I have been fighting to keep myself from kissing you, my sunflower?"

Toris blushed. "You want to kiss me?"

"More than anything in the whole world."

Toris, in a move that was less than well thought out, pressed his lips to Ivan's in what must have been a sudden fit of madness. Ivan did not respond, nor did he push Toris away. It was like kissing a ghost.

Toris pulled away. "I – I'm really sorry, I wasn't thinking."

Ivan was quiet. "It doesn't matter, Toris. I cannot sink further into this abyss than I already have."

Toris gulped. "You should tell Alfred." He said firmly, trying valiantly to regain some of his composure. "About what Arthur and Francis are trying to do. It's not right, what they're doing. If Alfred knew, he'd never take Arthur back. You should definitely tell him."

Ivan smiled. "I shall tell him. You are right, he deserves to know."

_Of course I shall not tell him. To tell Alfred would be to admit defeat. To tell Alfred would be simply narrow-minded jealousy, and further proof that I cannot compete with Arthur for Alfred's heart. Not that I believe for a second that Alfred should give me his heart. How could he? He shall never know that my whole heart belongs to him now....that all he has to do is ask, and all of what is whole and good about me will be his. The last vestiges of my sanity are in Alfred's hands. It is the darkness within me that belongs to Toris. Nothing else. _

_But I shall not tell Alfred. If he and Arthur are truly destined to spend the rest of their lives together, then so be it. I shall not interfere. I shall not intervene in the course of true love. Why should I deny Alfred happiness and hope if he can have it with Arthur? Not even I am that cruel. _

_Alfred does not need to know what Arthur has done. He is perfectly capable of making a valid assessment of Arthur's character on his own. And if he chooses to go running back to Arthur, then that is something I will have to accept. _

_After all, I can come back here. To live with Estonia, Latvia and darling Toris. Things were not so terrible before. The vodka certainly helped. Yes, I shall slip back into the dark place. Perhaps I will hurt Toris again. I don't want to. But this is what will happen. Perhaps Toris will hurt me again. Yes, that seems likely. _

_I can just go back to the way things were before. I should have known I never had a chance at sanity. It is not meant for me. I never believed I could get better until I found Alfred. Perhaps it is best if Alfred and I do not remain together. After all, it is hardly fair to drag him into my world of pain and chaos, when he could perpetually live in the sunlight with Arthur. I do not deserve happiness. Maybe this is the price I must pay. _

_Toris will not mind. He loves me, after all. _

"Yes, Toris. Of course I will tell him."

"That's good. I really feel that - "

Toris was cut off by the feeling of Ivan's lips upon his. He almost struggled. It was by this point an automatic reflex. He stilled, and slowly but surely, responded.

Ivan broke away with a look in his eyes that Toris had seen there many times before. Toris' heart sank like a stone.

Ivan giggled. "That was a very bad thing for us to do, Toris. And what happens when someone does a bad thing?"

Toris' eyes welled up with tears as he heard Ivan giggle with demented glee again.

"They must be punished. "

-------------------------------------------

END CHAPTER

A/N: What is this I don't even

I thought this fic was meant to be a romantic comedy. What happened?

Anyway, if you thought this was bad, the next chapter is going to be....interesting. After that, I swear I'll get back to sappy romance and failed attempts at humour!


	11. Chapter 11

A/N: I'M SO SORRY FOR HOW LATE THIS CHAPTER IS. Seriously. But in all honesty, there's not much I can do. University is CRAZY right now. I should have been working when I was writing this chapter. I want to promise another one before Christmas, but unless the workload eases up a bit, I'm reluctant do so.

About this chapter. I would like to warn you right now, it is not like the previous chapters, which have been sitcom-esque romance incorporated with what, believe it or not, was my attempt at humour. This is chapter is me trying out for the first time something very new to me. There is sex (although it is not explicit). There will be bloodplay. If this squicks you out, I very much apologize, but again, it is not explicit or hardcore.

Chapter 11 – Cold Hands, Warm Heart

The house was completely dark. The curtains were open, and the furniture was reflecting the eerie glow of the streetlights outside. It being November, dusk had fallen early, and it was now all but pitch black outside.

Ivan was confused. Alfred was out? He had promised Ivan he would be here when he returned. Had he found out? Already? Ivan's heart pounded in his chest as he thought about what Alfred might have done.

Ivan glided like a ghost through the dark rooms. Shrugged his coat off. Winced.

Alfred, as it turned out, had not left the house. He was sitting alone, in the dark of the lounge, only a small lamp illuminating his face. His face, stained with tears.

Ivan stood in silence. There was nothing he could do now. He would just have to let this happen to him.

"Good evening, Ivan." Said Alfred slowly. "How was your meeting with your boss?"

"Enlightening." Ivan replied just as slowly, not blinking, his eyes trained on Alfred as the American pulled himself out of his seat with what seemed like an immense amount of effort, picking up his coat.

Ivan looked on in confusion as Alfred grasped his hand and stuffed his bomber jacket into Ivan's open hands.

"Ivan."

"Yes, Alfred?" Ivan's voice was trembling.

"Would you reach into my right coat pocket, and take out what you find there?"

Ivan swallowed, reaching into the pocket. His hand froze on a single small piece of card, which, when he removed it from the coat, was revealed to be a photograph.

Alfred sniffed. "That's one of series, in case you were interested. I was just particularly taken with that one. What does it show, Ivan?"

Ivan shook his head, his eyes welling up as he described what he saw. "It appears to be a photograph of Toris and I kissing."

Alfred grinned, nodding. "Very good, very good! When was it taken, my darling?" he snarled.

"Today." Whispered Ivan.

Alfred let out a raucous laugh, falling to his knees. "Brilliant! That's wonderful!"

"Alfred, why are you laughing?" asked Ivan, not knowing what to say. He had a feeling "sorry" would not cut it at this point.

"I'm just laughing at our relationship! Why aren't you laughing, Ivan? It's obviously a joke to you! Laugh!" cried Alfred, shaking his head manically from his position on the floor.

Ivan dropped to his knees and crawled over to Alfred, scooping him into his arms, wincing in pain as he did so.

He cleared his throat. "Let me tell you a story, Alfred."

Alfred nodded absently. "Yes. Tell me a story."

"Hundreds of years ago, so long ago I barely remember it, I met a young man named Toris Laurinaitis. Lithuania. He came to live at my house. He and his brothers. I loved them all dearly, but Toris was special. I became infatuated with this young man. I fell in love with him. My descent into adoration coincided with my descent into madness."

Alfred stiffened. "Continue."

"I made it bad. I was so scared Toris would find somebody he loved more than me, and leave. I tried to keep him from doing so through intimidation and fear. I gradually lost my mind. I wanted, I craved him. I wanted him to come with me, into the darkness."

"I....Ivan...."

"You wanted to hear the story, Alfred. Let me finish it."

"O....OK."

"I hurt him. And then when I tried to make it better, I hurt him even more. I barely knew what I was doing anymore. All I knew, the only coherent thought I could grasp onto most of the time was that Toris was a sunflower. He was the single shining light in a world of decay and darkness. He was my sunflower. I knew he was wilting, and all I did was make it worse." Ivan's eyes spilled hot tears as he spoke.

Alfred turned in Ivan's arms. He kissed Ivan's tears, just as Ivan had done for him the night after Arthur had broken his heart.

Ivan paused. Was Alfred still angry? Was he being sincere?

It was Alfred that broke the silence, after breaking away from Ivan. "I want the end of my story."

"You know how it ends." Choked Ivan. "Toris broke away from me, and even when he returned to my house, he never really came back. It was like there was a new part of him, a part I couldn't reach anymore. He'd gone somewhere far away, where I couldn't find him. I went on a trip. I left my household behind and I travelled. I started to feel better. I started to feel my grasp on my mind tightening, the longer I spent away from Toris. I began to realise that Toris was not a sunflower. Unwittingly, he was the one that had dragged me into darkness and insanity. Toris is not a light."

"What is he?" whispered Alfred, wet tears sparkling on his cheeks against the dim, flickering light.

"He is the one, the only one that can shatter me into a million pieces. But only you, Alfred, can pick up the pieces and put them back together and make the picture look whole."

Alfred gulped. He felt his anger wane slightly. This was what Ivan had been feeling?

"I...I don't know...."

"Let me finish, Alfred. I travelled to America. I found you, heartbroken. We began to date. I knew you were on the – what is it you say? – the rebound, and I knew our romance would not last."

Alfred frowned, pushing himself off Ivan. "Not last?"

"Can we possibly last? You and I are too different, Alfred. For a start, you must certainly still be angry with me for kissing Toris, which I admit I have yet to explain. And...I simply feel...." Ivan was getting to the climax of his story. Unfortunately he was afraid it would not be a happy ending for either of them.

"You feel what?" demanded Alfred.

"You don't want to remember. Anything. You want to pretend relations between us began three weeks ago. You can pretend the past never happened. I cannot. You can pretend everything is normal. I cannot. Despite the fact that you are the only person, only nation, I have ever met that has made me feel like I am capable of having a normal life. You are the sunflower."

"I...I had no idea. Why didn't you say anything before?"

"Because, and I admit it frankly, I did not think you would understand. I thought that you had blocked unpleasant memories of us out of your mind. It is not so easy for me."

Alfred nodded uncomfortably. "I tried to. I wanted us to have a fresh start. I found that, when it came to it, I couldn't do it. Tell me the end."

"I received a letter from Toris. I met him in Moscow today. The moment I saw him I felt everything I had worked for over the last three weeks with you melt away into nothing. I felt myself falling. Again. I kissed him."

"I see." Said Alfred slowly. "I think I understand, you know. Finally."

"I am so sorry, Alfred." Ivan sniffed. "I never wanted to make you upset. It was my own fault. I should never have gone. It was....all my fault."

Alfred pulled Ivan into a tight hug, Ivan biting back a hiss of pain as he did so. "I'm sorry too, Ivan. I'm sorry I tried to pretend everything between us was normal. I just wanted us to be happy this time."

Ivan swallowed. "And I was, Alfred. I...I am."

"I just want to make you better. I want to make you sane, and whole."

"And I can never understand why anyone would want to do that for me. I've hurt so many people."

"Why do you think I want to do it, you big dummy?" laughed Alfred, grinning affectionately at Ivan for what felt like the first time in years.

"I...I don't - "

"I love you."

Ivan was silent. Attempting to process this in his current state was something akin to running with his eyes closed. After a lapse of perhaps a minute, the best he could come up with to say was –

"You've never said that to me before."

"It's easy enough to say." Replied Alfred calmly.

"It's easy enough to say if you don't mean it."

Alfred frowned. "I mean it. You know I mean it."

"You might mean it now. Will you still mean it tomorrow? Will you still mean it a year from now? Or will you only ever mean it when you say it?"

"Please don't say that, Ivan. Please don't devalue this. Why are you always like this? Do you truly believe you're so unlovable? Why are you so paranoid?"

Despite the seriousness of the situation, Ivan could not help but let out a little chuckle. "You're one to talk to me about being paranoid."

"Oh, shut up." Said Alfred teasingly, laughing along with Ivan.

Ivan looked at Alfred fondly. "You know that I cannot say that back to you right now. You understand, yes?"

Alfred nodded. "Of course. I know what you feel. You don't need to say it."

He pulled Ivan into another tight hug, and this time, Ivan could not hold back the gasp of pain he felt.

Alfred frowned. "Are you OK? Are you hurt?"

"I'm fine, Alfred, please don't, we were just....it's OK now, please don't....."

But Alfred had pulled back to appraise Ivan in the light. And, unfortunately, the crimson stains on the back of Ivan's shirt had not escaped his attention.

"Ivan....you _are_ hurt...your back." Alfred tried to pull Ivan closer to inspect the injury, but Ivan hissed.

"Please, Alfred, no! You won't....."

Alfred felt a little angry this time. "I won't what? I won't understand? You always say that! Why don't you try me? I'm not as stupid as you think, you know? You think I don't go through dark shit? I'm the United States of fucking America, in case you'd forgotten!"

Ivan was in tears by this point. "I....keep away from me, please, Alfred....."

Alfred snarled in anger, grabbing Ivan by the arm, and positively yanking him over. He shoved his face as close as he could to Ivan's ear, whispering dangerously. "You think I don't remember? You think I don't think about it every time you kiss me? Every time you fuck me? Every time I close my eyes on the bed next to you? You think I don't see their crying faces? That day in the snow? That field?"

Ivan could only breathe.

"Tell me." Alfred commanded, unbuttoning Ivan's shirt while Ivan sat placidly, a dazed expression on his face. "Tell me...who the fuck did this to you." He snarled, as he pulled Ivan's shirt off to reveal open, gaping wounds, dripping bright, crimson blood, trickling in sinister rivulets down Ivan's back, drying on his discarded shirt. Dozens of them there must have been. It looked as though Ivan had been beaten repeatedly. It was all Alfred could do not to put his fingers in his ears to block out the sound of Ivan's screams playing in his mind.

Ivan was now shaking his head manically, hands clawed, gripping tightly at his hair. He cried out in agony as he heard Alfred's choked sobs behind him. He ran to the wall, thrust his head against it, _get out, get the voices out, go away, please...._

He barely felt Alfred scream at him and pull him away from the wall. His eyes gradually pulled back into focus as Alfred held him, kissing away his tears, his pain, stroking his hair softly.

"Please don't do this, Ivan."

"I'm sorry, Alfred."

"You did it to yourself, didn't you?"

Ivan nodded numbly. "Someone had to be punished. Someone had to be punished. Someone had to be _punished._"

"Shhh...it's OK. I understand. I understand, Ivan."

"I didn't mean to. I didn't. I swear." Ivan was mumbling to himself. "Please don't hate me, Alfred."

Alfred shook his head sadly. "I have never hated you. Never. Not once. I love you. Remember that?"

"Yes. You love me."

"I don't ever want you to do this again, Ivan. I never want you to hurt yourself again."

Ivan shook his head. "I never want to have to."

"You never will. I promise. You'll be with me. And I'll be there to make you better, if you ever get like this again."

Ivan stared into Alfred's cornflower blue eyes, and for the first time saw him clearly. "You're the reason I'm whole." He said simply.

He kissed Alfred. It was tender, and caring, and something their kisses had never been. But he was still holding on to something. He deepened the kiss, slipping his tongue inside Alfred's mouth. Alfred gasped, eagerly returning the kiss. His hands fisted in Ivan's hair. Ivan moaned inside his mouth, desperately panting, begging Alfred. "Harder....do that harder....."

Alfred did so. He, too, had been holding on to something. He gripped Ivan's hair so hard he felt as though he was ripping it out. Ivan's nails dug into to the sensitive skin of his neck, scratched, drew blood. Their kiss was teeth rather than lips. They pulled back, and Ivan noted with surprise that Alfred's lips were not bleeding. Alfred was panting, his cheeks flushed and pink lips wet. Ivan felt a shiver run down his spine.

"Ivan...." whispered Alfred, hot breath ghosting on his neck, hands wandering. "I think we should clean your wounds now."

Ivan frowned. "Hm?" He had hardly been expecting Alfred to say that. "Well, yes...I suppose so."

Alfred crawled around Ivan so he was facing his back. "After all...we wouldn't want them to get infected."

"Alfred...what do you – ah!" Ivan was cut off by a rather wonderful sensation, loath as he was to admit it.

He arched his back and clenched his fingers in the fabric of his pants, stifling a gasp. As much as he wanted to scream and cry and tear out his hair at that moment, he could not deny that the feeling of Alfred's hot, wet tongue lapping at his open wounds was incredibly erotic.

The brief moments of pain were beautiful accompaniments to the sweet melody of Alfred's warmth seeping into Ivan's skin. Alfred alternated between slowly running his tongue over the bloody gashes and teasingly licking at them with the very tip of his tongue. He moved upwards to the cuts on Ivan's shoulders, and Ivan noticed that Alfred had removed his own shirt at some point during the course of events. Alfred wrapped his arms around Ivan and the warmth of his chest was soon pressed flush against Ivan's back as his wonderful tongue continued to work at Ivan's broken skin.

Alfred tilted Ivan's head back to meet his own. Alfred's lips, Ivan noticed, were stained a perfect crimson, and as they kissed, Ivan tasted his own coppery blood on those tantalising lips. Ivan could feel how painfully hard Alfred was behind him, and he himself was much the same way.

"Alfred..." he muttered breathily. "Let me...take off my trousers, yes?"

Alfred, eyes half-lidded, nodded, and unbuckled his own belt, pulling off his trousers as Ivan followed suit.

It wasn't as though they hadn't seen each other naked before. Far from it. But it was like they were seeing each other properly for the first time, and neither had ever felt so exposed.

Their bodies melted into each other. Alfred clambered, hot and sweaty and _desperate_, into Ivan's lap, grinding against him, and _oh gods it was so sweet, _and Ivan moaned as Alfred sucked on his neck, that tongue of his teasing, his teeth tentatively biting down on Ivan's pulse point. Ivan had been reduced to a quivering mess in Alfred's arms. Alfred's palm grasped Ivan's back as he rocked rhythmically into Ivan's shaking body.

"Alfred...." pleaded Ivan. "I want you to...to.."

"Yes, Ivan?" asked Alfred, biting gently on the lobe of Ivan's ear, tickling him with his breath.

"F-Fuck me."

"No." Replied Alfred.

"No?"

"I can make love to you. Is that what you want?" asked Alfred, hot mouth latching on to one of Ivan's nipples, making him arch and cry out in pleasure.

"Yes!" cried Ivan. "Yes...."

Alfred extricated himself from the mass of limbs that was he and Ivan, noticing at last that there was blood on his hands.

Ivan turned around, and laid his head back onto Alfred's shoulder. "Let me suck them. Your fingers. I want to taste it." Commanded Ivan. He knew Alfred wanted this. He could feel his hardness pressed against him, feel how much Alfred wanted to take him.

"Y-Yes..." Alfred slid two fingers into Ivan's mouth, moaning loudly as Ivan's tongue lapped the space in between them, suckling gently on the two fingers, head bobbing up and down on them. It was an intensely erotic sight to behold, and Alfred let himself become even more aroused upon the sight of Ivan's mouth becoming stained with his own blood as he ran his tongue along Alfred's fingers.

Finally the torment was over as Ivan released Alfred's fingers from his mouth with a rather obscene slurping noise. Alfred's fingers were quickly replaced with his mouth, and as they were kissing, Alfred's hand worked its way down Ivan's back, until –

"Stop." Said Ivan.

Alfred frowned. "You don't want me to -"

"No." Said Ivan firmly. "I don't want you to prepare me. I want you to make it as painful as possible."

Ivan's resolution wavered ever so slightly upon seeing the hurt in Alfred's eyes. "Are you sure?"

"Absolutely." Said Ivan solemnly.

Alfred sighed. "I just don't know why you want to hurt yourself."

Ivan kissed Alfred's cheek. "Alfred. I need this. Just this once. Please?"

Alfred paused for a minute, before giving Ivan an almost imperceptible nod of the head. Ivan barely had time to register this before Alfred pushed into him, hard, and rough, and _oh GOD so painful _and everything he could possibly want, and he screamed, and there were tears in his eyes, and he could feel that there was blood, and it was _perfect._

Alfred's hands were all over Ivan's chest, his fingers pinching Ivan's nipples hard, his mouth hot and wet on his neck, biting harshly enough to draw blood, his moans audible and wanton as he thrust into Ivan harder and harder and - oh God he wasn't going to last, it was too much.

Ivan's back arched and he cried out as he came, spilling over his stomach and Alfred's hands. Alfred thrust desperately into Ivan and seconds later he climaxed into Ivan's hot, tight body.

They were both panting hard, and Ivan could still feel Alfred's warm breath. Alfred gently pulled out of Ivan, kissing him on the cheek, the neck, the shoulder, anywhere he could reach. Ivan winced as Alfred moved away, peeling his hot, sticky flesh from Ivan's raw, bleeding wounds.

"Are you OK?" whispered Alfred.

Ivan nodded, never having felt more OK in his life. "Alfred, that was....amazing. Thank you."

Alfred smiled. "No need to thank me. As long as you're OK, that's all that matters to me. Lie down. I'm going to go run you a bath. Those wounds need cleaning up properly. And I'll just put the oven on, you need something to eat."

Ivan nodded, laying his body down on the couch, letting his eyes flutter closed. He was uncomfortable, the couch's material was scratching his back, there was sticky blood (amongst other nefarious substances) on his upper thighs, and his throat was hoarse from screaming.

None of it mattered. Alfred had done exactly as he had asked. He had not held back. And now Ivan was free.

Perhaps Alfred did understand after all. The guilt Ivan had felt for everything he had done was draining away just as his own blood was circling the drain of the bathtub as he let Alfred wash him.

Ivan had never felt so warm and peaceful as he crawled into Alfred's king size bed that night, curled up with his lover pressing kisses to his lips, gently stroking his face, his hair.

This must be what happiness felt like. This must be what light felt like.

"Alfred?"

"Yes, Ivan?"

"I love you too."

**END CHAPTER**

3 to go. I think.

I feel like I made them cry too much. Ah well, it was manly crying! Just like in The Odyssey.

I know this chapter was a little...different, but I wanted to try this. I've never written anything like this before. Please be gentle!

Also, cookies to anyone who picks up on the casual nod to one of my favourite movies.


	12. Chapter 12

A/N: Here are the profuse apologies for not updating for almost TWO MONTHS. I can't believe what a bag of dicks I am. Work stuff. I'm too busy for this, goddamn. I'm so fucking sorry. Thanks to everyone who reviewed the last chapter, I hope you're not all too mad at me to read this....I expect you guys have all forgotten what's happening anyway. But, here it is, the penultimate chapter! And, it's over twice as long as normal (9,500 words- go me!) to at least sort of make up for the fact that it's so hideously late.

Chapter Twelve – Sorry About That

"Ve, Ludwig, it's even cuter than I remembered!" cried Feliciano in excitement, clinging on to Ludwig's hand and dragging him towards the mansion. "Cute" was hardly the word Ludwig would use to describe Roderich's palatial mansion, but he wasn't going to argue with Feliciano.

Why in the world did the enthusiastic young man think that this conference was likely to be fun? Had he ever _been _to a conference before? Last year, it had been at England's house, and all he'd done was yell at them for putting their feet on the furniture and force-feed them stale scones and weak tea. The year before, Canada had hosted and he was so afraid of making them do something they didn't want to, he'd allowed them free reign. Needless to say, Prussia and Denmark had taken it upon themselves to turn the conference into a week-long drinking party. The year before that, it had been at Germany's house. Ludwig was big enough to admit that it was obvious that everyone had been bored to tears by the amount of work he had made them do.

Nevertheless, Feliciano was bouncing around as if Roderich's vast residence was home to the World Pasta Convention.

"Come on, Ludwig, let's find our room!"

Ludwig slapped his palm to his forehead. It was going to be a long weekend.

* * *

It was finally Friday November 21st, the first day of the international conference held at Austria's house. The nations had been arriving since Thursday evening and settling in – Hungary and Belgium were chatting in their room, Spain and Romano were arguing in theirs. Poland and Lithuania had arrived earlier that morning, and the melancholy emanating from Lithuania was palpable. Poland had been trying to cheer him up all morning, but couldn't get anything out of him. Lithuania kept staring out of the window, as if waiting for someone to arrive. France and England had arrived the previous night, and were at that moment whispering confidentially to each other on the balcony of their room. Prussia and Denmark were raiding Austria's liquor cabinet while the other nation baked cakes in the kitchen with Finland and Sweden. Austria planned to serve lunch then announce to the rest of the nations what would be happening over the next couple of days. The thirty nations attending the conference were assembled.

Germany and Italy, while touring the house, discovered Belarus and Australia in a somewhat compromising position in the airing cupboard.

"Ve, Germany, isn't it wonderful? Bela seems really happy! I'm glad she's not interested in her brother anymore...."

"Ja." Grumbled a horribly embarrassed Germany. ""Wonderful."

Finally, at one o'clock, the sleek black sedan pulled up in the driveway and Russia and America rushed inside, grabbing their baggage.

"I'm sorry we're late, Roddy!" exclaimed Alfred, pulling Roderich into an uncomfortable looking hug. "Our flight got delayed."

Roderich shook his head. "Not a problem at all, Alfred. You and Russia are staying in Room 7. Top of the stairs, second door on your left. Take all the time you need to get unpacked. The first activity starts at 2:30. We're going to be meeting in conference room B."

Alfred nodded enthusiastically, pulling Ivan up the stairs.

"Oh, man, I feel really bad about being so late. Everyone must have gotten here way before us."

Ivan sighed. "Alfred, you worry too much. There is no problem, Roderich seems happy to see us."

"Yeah, I guess so. So, do you wanna unpack now?" asked Alfred, slipping his arms around Ivan's waist. "Or can that wait a while?" he smirked, kissing Ivan's neck.

"Mm...Alfred....we should unpack...come on....mmph!"

"Yeah, it can definitely wait a while."

Unfortunately, Ivan and Alfred were interrupted by Roderich's voice. "Hey! Do you two want to come downstairs for lunch?"

"Not particularly." Muttered Alfred, disentangling himself from Ivan. "Yeah, sure, Roderich! We'll be down in two minutes!" he shouted.

"OK, we're all gathering in the dining room."

Lunch was a simple affair, finger sandwiches and tea. England was utterly delighted. Roderich served his famous Black Forest Gateau afterwards, and when everyone had finished eating, stood up.

"All right, everybody. I wanted to let you know what's going to be happening over the next couple of days. This afternoon, I'm going to divide you into groups of three and we're going to do a few activities to get us warmed up. This evening, I thought we could relax with a few games - "

"You're really going to let us play Strip Poker?" interjected Prussia.

Austria looked as though he had been having this argument for weeks. Which he had. "No, Gilbert, this absolutely does not mean you may play Strip Poker. If you really wish to take off your clothes, do it in the privacy of your own bedroom. Do not do so in the communal areas. I wouldn't want you to offend the ladies present."

"Fine." Pouted Prussia. "Oi, Denmark, Francis, Antonio, Iggy, my room, 9 o clock?"

"Gilbert! Would you _please _let me finish speaking before you start organising your own games?" Austria was blushing heavily at this point, and Prussia could tell it was his fault.

"Yeah. OK. Sorry, Roddy."

"Thank you. As I was saying, I thought we could play a few card games – _tasteful _card games, and perhaps watch a film. Dinner will be served at 8pm. Tomorrow morning, I want everyone up bright and early for group presentations, where you will show what you have been working on this afternoon. Tomorrow afternoon, we will divide off into two teams of fifteen and have a little fun. I've prepared an obstacle course in the orchard, I thought we might blow off some steam after what will _hopefully _have been a productive morning." Austria sounded as though he utterly loathed telling the rest of the nations they were allowed to have fun.

"And in the evening, everyone will be required to write an individual report about what they feel they as a nation have achieved. You will hand it in to me by eight o clock tomorrow evening."

Prussia laughed. "Yes, Mr. Edelstein. Here's what I learned on my field trip."

Austria scowled. "If you are going to do nothing but make fun of me, _Gilbert, _then I would kindly ask you to leave."

Prussia shrugged. "Well, I guess I'd better be off, then." He slammed the door on his way out.

America folded his arms. "Hey, Roddy, what the hell's going on with you and Prussia? You're fighting even more than usual."

Austria was a deep shade of maroon comparable to that of a radish at this point. "Well, you know, um...he and I – we, er - "

"They're fighting over me." Hungary cut in. "Yeah. Prussia's being a total asshat about it. He keeps saying really mean things about my boyfriend, and he's upset because I think he's a total jerk."

Austria gave Hungary a thankful look and carried on. "Anyway. On Sunday, we'll have a free day. You can all explore Vienna on your own, or in groups. You're free to leave at any time on Sunday, depending, of course, on when your flights are. Does everyone understand?"

"Yes, Mr. Edelstein!" all the nations chorused.

Austria scowled. "All right then. I've randomly divided you into ten groups of three, so listen up. Group one, Poland, Belarus and Canada. Group two, Australia, Lithuania and China. Group Three, Japan, Spain and Greece."

Japan blushed slightly at the wink sent his way by Heracles. Spain grinned wickedly at him. What had he done to deserve this?

"Group four, Ukraine, France and Denmark. Group five, Estonia, Belgium and myself. Group six, Hungary, Korea and Iceland. Group Seven, Norway, Prussia and Sweden. Group eight, Finland, Romano and Germany."

Romano smacked his fists on the table. "No way! I'm not working with this bastard! No way in hell! I'm serious, Roderich, you make me work with the this asshole, I'll tear your throat right out your - "

"Lovi, please!" Spain pleaded. "Don't be upset! You're worrying Mr. Turtle!"

Lovino still could not believe Spain had had the nerve to bring Mr. Turtle to the conference, let alone to lunch.

"Aaargh! It can't be worried, you moron! It's a turtle!"

Spain pouted. "Mr. Turtle may have a hard outer shell, but he's all mushy on the inside!"

"What the hell does that mean?"

"He still has feelings!"

"Grrraaaaagh!" Romano lunged at Spain, practically knocking him out of his chair before Denmark and France pulled him back.

Austria's arms were folded, and he was looking distinctly unimpressed. "If you're quite finished behaving like five-year olds, I'd like to get on with announcing the remaining two groups. Is that quite all right with the pair of you?"

"You'll have to run it by Mr. Turtle first." Said Spain quietly.

Austria exhaled. "OK, just shut up."

Russia and America were looking excited, their fingers intertwined. "Looks like we might get put in the same group." Said America in anticipation.

"I hope so." Replied Russia fondly, stroking Alfred's hand.

"All right." Said Austria. "Group nine, Russia, Italy and Turkey."

"Oh." America looked downcast. "This means we won't get to work together after all."

Russia's eyes were narrowed. "No. We won't. You will get to work with someone else, though." He said, scowling.

"Huh?"

"Which leaves" Austria cleared his throat, "Group ten. Latvia, America, and England."

"Oh. _Oh._"

"I'd, ahem. Like to make it perfectly clear that the groups were selected completely at random, and were not a product of any vindictiveness that I may bear." Austria stacked his papers and cleared his throat again. "The presentations will be made at nine o clock tomorrow morning. You have the rest of the afternoon to work on them. The topic is global climate change. I expect a ten to fifteen minute presentation from each group about their individual role as a country in combating climate change, and how each member of the group can work with the other countries in their group, as well as work with the other countries of the world in order to fight climate change. I would like everyone to come up with at least three long-term and three-short term strategies, and I would like at least some effective use of scientific data within each presentation. Everything you'll need is in these folders, each one is numbered. Have fun."

* * *

Fun may have been what Austria had in mind, but it was most certainly not what was being had. Most groups were just trying to focus on not ripping each other's heads off. There was a lot of rage in that conference room, folks.

Finland was almost in tears. He had spent so much time as a mediator between Denmark and Sweden, he never thought he'd have to do it for anyone else. Romano and Germany had barely spoken a civil word to each other the entire afternoon, and Finland wasn't sure how much more he could take. At least Germany was attempting to handle the situation maturely, coming up with reasonable ideas for the presentation, but Romano was simply refusing to cooperate.

None of the other groups were having much more luck. A couple of them were getting on OK, namely those comprised entirely of reasonably sane and sensible nations like Austria, Estonia and Belgium, who were getting on quite well.

Over at table ten, the situation was dire. For the simple reason that, the very instant America, England and Latvia were out of earshot of the other teams, America had uttered these immortal words:

"You guys. We're going to do a rap about global warming."

It was all downhill from there.

Meanwhile, Austria was still periodically leaving the room to attempt to coax an infuriated Prussia down from his bedroom. No one knew why, since Norway and Sweden were getting on efficiently and productively without him, and he would almost certainly disrupt what Austria called the "group dynamic". Nevertheless, Prussia was in one of his moods, and Austria seemed to always be responsible these days. It was the least he could do, really, to at least try to get him to come down.

"Gilbert?" Austria knocked on the door and eased it open. Prussia was lying on his bed listening to music so loud Austria could practically make out the lyrics from the doorway. "Gilbert." He sat on the bed, only to have Prussia turn away from him.

"Gilbert, please!" cried Austria, pulling out Gilbert's headphones. "Talk to me, please, Gilbert. I just need to know you're okay."

"Do I look okay?" growled Gilbert, snatching his headphones back and depositing them n the nightstand.

"Gilbert, I know you're still angry with me because of what I said, but you need to, you know. Start moving on a little bit. Grow up, Gilbert."

"Grow up. Grow up, huh? Let me ask you something, Roderich. What's the point? I mean, seriously? I'm not even a real country any more. I'm just a man. Just some guy, stuck in a world where he's never going to get to grow old, never going to have kids, never going to marry. Never going to change, because I don't have a population to change me anymore. I'll always be the same. I'll never die. I'll never diversify, become any cleverer or stupider. I'll never be able to do any of these things all the rest of you can do. I'm just a guy. Trapped here, forever. Can you imagine what that feels like?"

Austria swallowed, pausing for a moment. "No."

"Look, I think I might leave. There's no point me even being here. Why did you ask me to come?"

"Because I wanted you to be here." Whispered Austria. "Please stay, Gilbert."

Gilbert snorted. "Why, so I can be made to feel even worse about the fact that I'm in love with some guy who doesn't feel the same way?"

"You mean - "

"Yeah, I mean you. Look, you already gave me your answer before. You don't want me like that. You want something stable. Something secure. I'm nothing like that. My very existence is unstable. Sometimes I have no idea why I'm even still alive. Yeah, like the rest of you, I'll probably live forever. Otherwise I would have died when I was dissolved. Look, you said it yourself. You want Hungary. So stay with her. I get it."

Gilbert shrugged Austria's hands off his shoulders and turned over to face away from him.

Austria stood. Said in his mind everything he wanted to say out loud but couldn't. "I'm sorry, Gilbert. Please. I really want you stay. As my friend. I'll let you play Strip Poker this evening?"

Gilbert sniffed. "Yeah, all right."

Austria walked away without another word.

* * *

And thus did Friday afternoon pass. Russia's group finished their presentation by seven o clock, and Russia made his way over to America's group, where America and England were laughing together while Latvia looked on nervously.

"Alfred?"

"Oh, hey, you." Said Alfred happily, getting up to kiss Russia. "What's going on?"

"Well, Italy, Turkey and I are finished, and I was wondering if you wanted to come and watch the movie with us? Afterwards we might go to Prussia's room and play Strip Poker, Austria's letting it happen. Are you interested?"

Alfred groaned. "That sounds awesome and I would love to, but we haven't finished here. It kinda looks like we're gonna be working a little while longer. But I'll catch up with you at dinner, right? Hopefully we'll be done by then."

Russia shrugged. "Certainly. I shall see you at dinner." He gave America a light kiss on the cheek and sauntered away to bother France and Ukraine.

"Hey, is he OK? He looked a bit annoyed." Commented England.

America shook his head. "Nah, he's fine. Look, come on guys, let's get down to it, only an hour until dinner."

They were not finished by dinner.

* * *

Hundreds of miles away, in a grand house practically snowed under in Stockholm....

"Hello?" Peter Kirkland picked up the phone, shushing Hanatamago. "Sweden and Finland's place, what's up?"

"Peter, it's me."

Peter broke out into a wide grin. "Raivis, how are you? How's the stupid conference going? Miss me yet?"

"Yeah." Admitted Latvia. "It's been really weird. I wish you were here."

Peter snorted. "So do I, but Austria's all like "sorry, Sealand, but I can't invite you to the conference, you're not officially recognised as a country." What a load of baloney."

"I know."

"So what's been going on?" Sealand grabbed a candy bar and began unwrapping it.

"Well, today we got divided into groups of three, and Austria made us come up with a presentation about global warming."

"Oh yeah? That sounds like fun." Sealand was being sarcastic. At least...Latvia thought so. It was sometimes hard to tell.

"It wasn't. I got put in a group with America and England, and America's trying to make us do this stupid rap, and he wants us to get costumes, and it all sounds totally embarrassing and horrible. I'm really hoping we won't have time to pull it off. I'd rather have nothing than have to do that. Thankfully America and England spent almost the entire afternoon flirting, and so we didn't really get anything done."

"Raivis! You're in a totally bitchy mood today. I like it."

Latvia blushed on the other end of the phone. "I'm sorry. I don't mean to be. I'm just a little tired after an entire day of that."

"So what did Ivan think of that?"

"He looked like he was going to murder England the whole afternoon. You should have seen the look on his face when he came over and saw them laughing together."

Peter laughed. "Oh. I almost feel bad for the big, crazy psychopath."

Latvia shivered. "I don't."

"So what, you want them to break up?"

"No way, if America breaks up with Russia he'll come back to Moscow, and I really don't want that."

Sealand was suddenly serious. "Nor do I, Raivis, not when you've been doing so well lately. You just know he'll try to stop us seeing each other."

Latvia sniffled. "I hope not."

"I'd never let him, you know that, right? I'll never let him keep us apart."

"Thanks, Peter."

"Not a problem. Hey, look, I have to go, Hanatamago wants feeding. Can I talk to you later?"

"Sure. Bye."

"See ya."

Latvia put the phone down, not noticing the slowly receding presence of Ivan, who slipped the door closed behind him on his way out of the secluded corridor.

* * *

Dinner was a rather taciturn thing. Barely anyone spoke a word. Prussia kept stealing glances at Austria, hoping no one else noticed. France would occasionally lean over to whisper something to England, causing Russia to roll his eyes. As if it wasn't obvious that the two were planning something.

Everyone was grateful when Austria told them they could cleave the table. England told France that he was going out for a brief stroll on the veranda, while Prussia started to attempt to organise the Strip Poker game that was to be held in his room. Several groups, including America and England's, still had work to do on the presentation.

"Hey, America?"

"What's up, Raivis? You ready to rap?"

"Actually, America, I'm very tired. I was sort of hoping to go to bed now. Can you and England work on the presentation without me? I'm sure I'd be more of a hindrance than a help. You two seem to know just what to do, I'll just follow your lead."

America shrugged. "OK, sure, Raivis. If you're feeling tired, you'd better get some rest. You need to have a whole bunch of energy for tomorrow!"

"Er....yes. OK. Goodnight, then!"

"Night!"

* * *

France was busy folding clothes when he heard a knock on his bedroom door.

"Come on in Arthur, I was just getting ready for - "

"For what, exactly? Another attack on me?"

France visibly paled. "Ivan. Sorry, I was expecting Arthur."

"I am well aware of that, Francis, however, Arthur is still strolling outside. It is you that I wish to speak to. Alone."

Francis shuddered. He was aware that this had probably been a long time coming. The thought of Ivan giving him a "talking to" however, still gave him chills.

He sat down on the bed, and motioned for Ivan to join him. "So. You know about it, then."

"Da. It was fairly obvious from the outset what Arthur was attempting to do."

Francis sighed. "I suppose there is no point hiding it any longer. If it's any consolation, it doesn't seem to be working. Even that stunt we pulled with poor old Toris didn't - "

"Francis." Ivan's tone was serious. "It is working. Raivis says they are....flirting with each other, is this the word?"

"I highly doubt that."

Ivan snorted. "Ah, but it is true. They also had a meaningful conversation at the diplomatic dinner. Yes, I know all about that. I have no notion of what passed between the two in that bathroom, but I am worried about it."

"Arthur...he is very much in love with Alfred. That much I know."

Ivan narrowed his eyes. "Please, Francis. You know far more than that. Just...just tell me. Am I fighting for a lost cause here? Are they just one of those couples that will always be a couple?"

Francis paused for a moment, seemingly not listening. When he spoke, however, it was with disturbing clarity and power.

"Ivan. Listen to me. Do not give up on him. If you give up on him he'll pull away. You two are great together. Please don't give up."

Ivan grinned. "And here I thought you were trying to help Arthur win him back."

"Very funny. You know perfectly well what's been going on. Far better than I'd anticipated, actually, well done."

Ivan rose to his feet. "Thank you. Well, Francis, I thank you for a most instructive conversation. I hope everything works out for the best."

Francis nodded. "As do I, my friend."

* * *

"Hey, you!" Alfred pulled Ivan into a hug as he exited France's room. "What were you doing in there, then?"

"I was just talking to Francis about a small matter. Nothing that concerns you, my darling, rest assured." Ivan kissed Alfred lightly on the lips.

"Well, OK. I was just looking for you, actually. Looks like I'm not gonna be able to make that poker game, we haven't finished with the presentation yet."

"Oh? So you will work on it through the night?"

Alfred laughed. "If that's how long it takes, yeah, I guess so. We're gonna borrow one of the spare bedrooms and set up camp in there."

"So, you, Arthur and Raivis will be a long time, then?"

"Actually, Raivis isn't feeling awful well. He's really tired. He's gonna go to bed, and we'll fill him in in the morning. It'll just be me and Arthur."

Ivan stiffened. "You...and Arthur? Alone?"

Alfred scowled. "Don't give me that look, I know that look. Nothing's gonna happen, all right? We've been over this. I'm with you. I'm over him. Totally and completely over him."

Ivan gulped, and was silent for a minute.

"I don't believe you."

He walked off into the night, leaving Alfred alone in an empty corridor.

* * *

Hungary tore open the letter in a smooth motion, tipping the envelope's contents on the dining room table.

"Ooooh, Roderich, the credit card bill's here!"

Austria poked his head around the door. "Oh, yes? And how much have we spent this month, dearest?" he casually glanced at the bill, before –

"Oh my – Elizaveta! How did you spend this much money?"

Hungary let out an uncharacteristic giggle. "Well, I figured, since you're my boyfriend, and everything, you should totally be paying my bills for me. It's what a chivalrous gentleman would do! Besides, come on, Roderich, a girl needs a new pair of shoes at least once a week, right?"

Austria frowned. "That's not the kind of girl I took you to be, Elizaveta. As a matter of fact, of late you've been acting most out of character. Is something the matter? Are you feeling neglected? I'm sorry if I've been preoccupied with this conference, Eliza, but I promise, once it's over, you and I can go back to the way things usually are."

Hungary giggled again. "No, it's not that! I just think that now we've been together a while, I can finally show you my true colours!"

Austria shook his head. "That's what I was afraid of. Look, Eliza. We need to talk."

It was around five minutes later when a green blur otherwise known as Hungary ran in "tears" past the veranda, crying "he broke up with me!"

England raised an eyebrow, but did not comment. He had problems of his own to deal with that night.

* * *

"So, how d'ya wanna do this thing?"

America and England were set up in one of the three spare bedrooms (more specifically, the one furthest away from Prussia's room) where they were about to continue (all right, let's face it, _begin_) working on the presentation.

"Sorry we didn't exactly get a lot done today." Said America sheepishly. "I guess it was kinda my fault for distracting you guys."

England shook his head. "Don't worry about it. I should have tried to...control you a bit better. It's just...I don't know, weird to try and tell you what to do now. Because, you know - "

"I'm not yours anymore?" finished America.

England reddened. "That's not exactly how I would have put it, but....yeah, something like that, I suppose."

"Come on, Iggy. I don't know what to do when you aren't acting like some know-it-all jerk."

England sniffed, unamused. "You certainly don't seem to have a problem acting like the same immature child you did when we were dating."

America laughed. "Sure don't."

"So, do you think we should come up with our own ideas, and collate everything at the end, or do you want to work together?" asked England.

America frowned. "Work together, definitely! It won't be any fun otherwise."

"As far as I'm concerned, it's highly unlikely to be any fun at all anyway, but if you will be so relentlessly optimistic."

"Hey. Could you, y'know, at least pretend you're happy we're working together? I don't need another person mad at me."

"What do you mean by that? Who's angry with you? And besides, I never said...I mean, I am happy we're working together, Alfred."

America folded his arms. "Me and Ivan had another stupid fight."

"About what?"

Another scowl. "He's mad that we're working together alone. He thinks something's gonna happen between us."

England snorted. "Fat chance of that happening. Totally crazy, right?"

America shifted uncomfortably in his seat. "Yeah. Crazy."

"America, if you want to talk about it - "

America breathed a sigh of relief. "Yeah. That would be great. I'd love to talk about it, Iggy."

England coughed. "What I was going to say, if you'd let me finish, was that if you want to talk about it, perhaps I'm not the best person to talk to. I was going to suggest you go to Francis, but - "

"Yeah, OK. I get it."

"No. I mean, if you want to talk to me....please do."

America looked up, his clear blue eyes practically scalding England's heart as he peered at him through his messy bangs. How, how did he have the nerve to be this beautiful? "Really? You don't mind?"

England shook his head. "I don't mind."

"It's just, I feel like we're arguing way more than we should be. He gets really jealous, and I don't know what I can say to make him feel better, because it's totally all in his head, and it's not like _he _has any right to be jealous, he made out with Lithuania like yesterday! And I can't just throw that back in his face, oh _no, _because he's fragile, he's precious, he'll break, and I tell you, talking to him is like walking on eggshells, I'm so sick of dealing with it!"

England raised an eyebrow. "I had no idea it was this bad."

"I want to help him, I really do, it's the only right thing to do. I'm a hero, and if I can't help someone in need, then I'm just a totally sucky hero, aren't I, and - "

"And you're wondering if you truly love him, or if your hero complex just makes you want to save him?" England finished.

"....yeah." America trailed off lamely. "And it's not as though I don't care about him, because I know I do, it's just that, well, I really wanted this time to be different, you know? I really want to connect with him, I just....I'm not sure if we're connecting the way I want."

England nodded. "You're not sure if what you feel about Ivan is truly love?"

America looked down, ashamed. "In all honesty, I think the only person I've ever really felt that way about, and been _sure _I felt that way about, was you, Arthur."

Arthur coughed, embarrassed. "Right. Well, all in the past, eh? What we need to focus on now is you and Ivan, not you and me. Well, actually, what we really need to focus on, in the immediate short-term, is this blasted presentation - "

"Oh, man, you're right! Look, it's already ten thirty, and we've hardly gotten anything done!"

"So. Are you OK? You don't want to carry on talking about it?"

"Maybe later. I guess we should get on with the presentation."

"Yeah, I guess so."

* * *

"Go on then. What ya got?" smirked Prussia, giving Canada his best leer.

Canada blushed heavily, earning a rub on the shoulder from Ukraine. Around the poker table there were six – Prussia, Denmark, Canada, Ukraine (since Prussia had insisted there be at least one girl involved) Spain, and France. Prussia was already down to his underwear, not quite being the poker king he had insisted he was. Spain and France were both equally good, neither having lost a piece of clothing yet. Ukraine had removed a sweater, but (Canada was grateful to note) her vest was still on, as were her pants.

Only Prussia, Spain and Canada remained in this hand. In Canada's hand was a two and a three. On the table, there was a King, a nine, an Ace, and a five, with the last card yet to be drawn. Prussia insisted on everyone putting their hands down on the table before the final flop.

He laughed uproariously when he saw Canada's cards. "You raised me that amount on a two and a three? Looks like it's between you me, Antonio, old boy."

Spain did not look worried. After all, he was fully clothed. "Just so long as that there card's not a heart, it's in the bag."

Prussia flipped it. It was the four of clubs. "Ah, well. It's to you, Spain, guess we dropped the ball there, Mattie."

Matthew cocked his head, pouting. "Well that's very interesting, Prussia. Because I appear to have an Ace, two, three four, five. Now, I'm no expert but I think in poker terms, they call that a straight."

After hollering for a minute or two and downing an entire pint of beer, while everyone else around the table cheered, clapped and high-fived Matthew, Prussia gave him a slap on the back. "Well, played, Matt. You screwed me and 'Tonio here nice and good. Well, here we go!"

He stripped off the last of his clothing, his boxer shorts, and threw them across the room. Spain reluctantly removed a sock.

* * *

"No way, I'm telling you, she was checking me out the whole time!"

England gave a derisive snort. "No why would she be doing that? I'm the traditionally handsome one. It was obviously me she was looking at."

America did not have the grace to even attempt to cover his manic laughter. "You! You must be joking!"

England frowned. He and America, having finished the presentation in little under five hours, had moved to sit together on the sofa, and apparently America was in a reminiscent mood. The incident they were recalling was one at a movie theatre over two years ago. A very pretty girl working at the ice cream stand had been looking their way the whole evening, and the pair were still arguing about who she was looking at.

"Well, I'm sure I can't be that bad to look at, you went out with me for four years!" snapped England.

America laughed and threw a casual arm around England's shoulders. "You know I'm just playing with you, Iggy. It was probably because she could tell how super-gay you were by looking at you. I mean, come on, the way you dress? Hardly screams lady-killer."

This was met by an affronted elbow in America's ribs. "I'll have you know I was extremely popular with the ladies in my day, lad."

"Oh yeah? And what fictional day would this be? Certainly no day when I was around."

England gave America a knowing smile, and leaned into him ever so slightly as America's grip around his shoulders tightened a little. "I got up to a lot more than you'll ever know before you turned up, boy. Did things a pure mind like yours would never have dreamed of."

America leaned in a little closer. "Oh yeah?" he whispered. "Enlighten me."

England's eyelids danced halfway between closed and open. America's hand was on his knee - _oh god, America's hand was on his knee_ – and his breath was tickling England's face. America's arm was firmly around England's shoulder, but his hand was starting to move lower....

"Alfred....I'd love to tell you exactly what I got up to, but I fear it would scar your innocent mind."

Alfred's eyes opened. "You know as well as I do my mind's not innocent, England. Besides, I've always preferred show to tell." He said, shutting his eyes and moving closer to England.

England's breath was practically mingling with America's, when all of a sudden, he was saved by the bell. Or rather, by straight-up gangsta rap.

"Oh, Alfred. Please don't tell me that's your ring tone. I thought I brought you up better than that."

"Hello? Oh, hey. Yeah, we just finished, actually. Yeah, I know it's late, we really shouldn't have spent the whole afternoon messing around. Yeah, I'll be up in a couple of minutes."

Alfred put the phone down.

"Ivan?"

"Yeah."

"So I guess you have to go, then?"

"Pretty much."

"OK, I think I'll head off too, Francis'll be wondering what the hell's happened to me."

America nodded, as he and England gathered their stuff, and shut the door behind them. England was caught slightly off-guard when Alfred pulled him into a crushing hug. "I'm really glad we got to spend so much time together today, Iggy. I forgot how much fun spending time with you is."

"Fun, or dangerous?" remarked England.

"Look, I'm sorry about what happened back there, I got a little crazy, I guess I'm sleep-deprived. It won't happen again. Not a third time."

England swallowed, biting back the forming tears. "It better not. If that happens a third time, Alfred...I don't think I'll be able to walk away again."

Alfred felt a longing like nothing he'd ever felt before as he watched Arthur's figure retreat into the night.

* * *

It was five minutes to nine, on the morning of the presentations. Every group but one was sat in the conference room, the projector was up and running, and most of the groups were clutching at stacks of notes and memory sticks, awaiting their turn.

Austria stood up at a minute to nine. "OK, settle down. Basically, we'll run though each group in turn, starting with group one. Hopefully this shouldn't take more than two and a half hours or so. After we've finished, we'll break for lunch, and then this afternoon we'll have some more fun activities. OK, group one. Poland, Belarus, Canada."

Unsurprisingly, the group had a mostly serious slideshow presentation (albeit one containing many, _many _pictures of ponies) and Austria and the other nations seemed impressed, if a little bored, at the end.

The morning dragged on very slowly. Sitting through the tedious presentations of some groups was akin to wading through tar. Highlights included Romano's priceless face at Germany's impromptu suggestion that maybe if Rome had less crazy motorists on the street car emissions wouldn't be such a problem, and subsequent attempt to strangle him.

It was only after nearly three hours had elapsed that most of the nations realised that during the course of the morning America, England and Latvia had disappeared from their midst.

"Uh...yes." said Austria, looking a little unsure. "Well, they said they had to get ready for their presentation. I hope they're ready now, they're up next."

Austria disappeared into the back room, where America's group were preparing, and came back out again clutching a piece of card and looking as though someone had just killed his cat.

"They're ready." He said stiffly. "And they've instructed me to read out this card in order to....introduce their act."

"Act?" mused Hungary. "Well, this ought to be something, at least."

Austria cleared his throat. "Are you motherfuckers ready for this?" he began in a monotone. "Coming at you from - "

"Hey!" The voice came from behind the door at the back of the room, and was unmistakeably America's. "Give it a little feeling, would ya? At least do it like we showed you."

Austria looked as though he would rather die, but continued on bravely. "Comin' at ya from the streets of Vienna, y'all bitches ain't gonna know what hit ya, it's MC Freedom and the Climate Change Crew."

Austria sat down, looking as though he wished a hole would appear from the earth and swallow him whole.

What happened next made everyone's morning seem a whole lot less dull.

"Yo yo yo, whassup, dawgs?" America burst into the room, snapping his fingers together (y'know, like primary school kids did in the late 90s), wearing what appeared to be a gold mesh tank top, oversized sunglasses, baggy baby blue sweatpants, several gold medallions, and a matching backwards cap. "We here to talk to y'all about climate change, all right!"

He had been followed painfully slowly into the room by England, who was wearing a white shell suit and what appeared to be a clip-on earring, and Latvia, who was in baggy jeans, an uncomfortably tight white t-shirt and a red neckerchief. All three were complete with sunglasses and medallions.

"Climate change, motherfuckers! I'm MC Freedom, and this is the Climate Change Crew!" he indicated England and Latvia.

"We're gonna break down some sick beats right here, bitches. We gon' do some straight-up rhymes about global warming. Y'all can't handle this."

The audience, to his credit, looked as though they, indeed, could not handle this.

However, every single one of them was rendered utterly speechless as Latvia started to beatbox. _Beatbox. _After a couple of eights, America and England both leapt forward, and started to....rap.

"I drive in to work in my SUV, yo bitch-ass motherfuckers ain't got nothing on me,

I use aerosols and I don't give a damn, I throw my litter on the street not in a trash can,

I eat lotsa meat and I fish all the time, yo look at me like that cause you jealous of my rhymes,

I waste a ton of water cause I never even shower, and it's people like me who can change, we got the power,

I like to spend my free time burning fossil fuels, bitches love my sulphur and my CO2,

I'd fly first class just to get to Ohio, I ain't taking public transport, do I look like a ho?

Break it down now."

America and England joined in on Latvia's beatboxing for a count of eight, before England removed from his pocket what was clearly a harmonica, and started playing, just as America began to rap again.

"If you got friends like me then what cha gotta tell em', is to stop messin' round, we ain't buying what you sellin'

Take responsibility for the planet that we live in, else in fifty years time, won't be no good for my chillen'

If you wanna see the ice caps ever again, turn over a green leaf, tell all your friends,

That to fix the environment would be bitchin' and cool, so stand up, and fight, cause we countin' on you!"

America and England knelt down and gave what they must have assumed was a "gangsta" pose while Latvia, no longer beatboxing, was standing in the corner shaking once more.

The entire audience sat in stunned silence for a few seconds, before Denmark and Prussia stood up almost simultaneously and started cheering uproariously, soon followed by the likes of Hungary, Spain, Italy, France, and even Finland, while the rest of the nations clapped in their seats.

Even Austria was giving the group a smattering of laboured applause, recognising how much the rest of the group had enjoyed it. America threw his arms around England and hugged him with such fervour that he actually lifted the smaller nation off the ground.

"That was...a very unique approach to the assignment, Alfred." Austria said. "I shall address you, Alfred, since I know perfectly well that this was entirely your brainchild. However, I do feel that you might have focused more on the actual issues at hand - "

"Yeah, we thought you might say that." Grinned Alfred. "So Arthur made us do an actual presentation as well. Here's the flash drive."

And so, for the remaining ten minutes of "presentation time" the nations were treated to, once again, an unbearably dull Powerpoint presentation.

* * *

Compared to the morning, the afternoon could legitimately have been termed uneventful. The thirty nations were divided into two teams of fifteen, and set about the surprisingly well-thought obstacle course. The winners were the team containing Prussia and America ("Team Awesome") and were presented with a selection of delicious looking cakes handmade by Austria.

However, as uneventful as the afternoon was, the nations had no idea, as yet, of what would be going down that very night.

Dinner, at 8, was a much more pleasant affair than the previous night, now that all the nations were relaxed, and ready to do some sightseeing the next day.

"Yeah," mumbled Alfred through a mouthful of burger, "No way does it feel like we've been here two days already. I don't wanna leave tomorrow night!"

Austria cleared his throat. "Well, Alfred, as I have stated already, you are at perfect liberty to stay longer. I assumed you would wish to be home by Monday morning. Surely you have work to do?"

"Nah. So we can really stay? Can we, Ivan?"

Russia raised an eyebrow. "If you wish, Alfred, you may stay another day. I am returning to Moscow at nine pm tomorrow evening. Some of us take our jobs seriously."

America looked taken aback. "OK, chill. Jeez."

The slightly awkward silence was broken by Prussia, suggesting another Strip Poker game, to which many nations acquiesced immediately.

Austria rose after dessert had been served. "OK, everybody. Here's the plan. I'm going to give a closing speech tomorrow morning at ten o clock to end the conference. After that, everyone is free to do as they wish. If anyone wants someone to show them around Vienna, I'd be more than happy to oblige. Tonight, there'll be a movie showing in the rec room, entertainments of a rather nefarious nature in Prussia's room, and don't forget there's a rather good bar just around the corner from this house. Have a good night, everyone."

"Woot! Party time."

* * *

"So, listen, England. You kicked ass today on that obstacle course. And I was kinda wondering if you wanted to share a slice of chocolate cake. It'll be all the more sweet because we won it by kicking France's ass."

America had invaded England's room to demand the two of them share a slice of cake? Yeah, cause that wasn't weird at all.

"Don't you want to share it with Ivan?"

"Pfft, no. He was on an enemy team, we can't share our cake with him!"

England exhaled sharply. "You've never had any problems fraternising with the enemy before."

America folded his arms. "He's mad at me anyway. Don't ask me why."

"Don't be an idiot, Al, he's - "

"Oh-hey." France had entered the room unannounced, and rendered the other two nations suddenly rather uncomfortable. "Sorry, I'll come back later, I just wanted a quick word with Arthur."

America shrugged. "Arthur and I are done talking. He's all yours, France." He left the room, leaving the cake on the dresser.

"Come on in, Francis. What is it?"

"Well. I was wondering if we were going to do anything this evening, that's all. After all, it seems our plan involving Lithuania has fallen flat. Is there nothing else you had in mind?"

England narrowed his eyes. "No. No, there's not. This is ridiculous. I'm done with this. This plan was stupid from the start. They love each other, and we're trying to fuck it up for them. If I really cared about Alfred I'd be happy for him. I'm just...I'm done."

"I see. So, you will let him go at long last? Despite the fact that you love him and he loves you and you know it? You are going to give up, correct?"

"France. He doesn't love me anymore. We spend all this time together, but the second Ivan calls he just cannot wait to get away from me and runs off to Ivan. I'm nothing more than a way for Alfred to kill time until Ivan comes around. That's all I've ever been."

"Arthur, you have a chance to be with the one you love. Why are you letting it slip away?"

"Is that what you tell yourself when you look at Matt?"

Francis sighed and shook his head. "No, Arthur, it is not. It is what I tell myself when I look at you."

Arthur froze. "What?"

"Yes. That person I told you about? You know, the one person I can never truly let go?"

"Yes?" Arthur whispered.

"That was you. Is you. Always will be you."

Arthur was almost in tears. "Francis....I...."

France cradled the tearful nation in his arms. "I love you....I love you more than anything in this world, my angel, _mon ange, mon Angleterre......_"

Arthur trembled against Francis' firm body. "I don't know what to say...."

"Say nothing...." whispered France as he pressed his lips against England's.

England blinked once. And pushed France away, tears still leaking from his eyes. "France....I'm sorry. I can't. I just...can't."

"I understand, Arthur."

"I have to go."

"I know."

"I'm gonna go down to the bar. Please don't come after me."

England ran. He ran as fast as his legs would carry him. Away, away from all of this. Finally.

* * *

"So I take it your beloved England did not wish to share cake with you?" snarled Russia, advancing on America in the hallway.

"Don't start." Snapped America. "Not now."

Russia grabbed America's arm and shoved him, hard, against the wall. "On the contrary. I think now is the perfect time to start."

America sneered. "You know, green really is such an ugly colour on you."

"I certainly prefer red...."

"Get your hands off me!"

"That's not what you were saying last night!"

America scowled at him. "Look, Ivan. This is never going to work if you don't trust me. I love you so much, and I trusted you. You betrayed that trust, and I forgave you. Can't you have the decency to have a little faith in me? I haven't done anything wrong."

"Yet."

"Exactly! And I'm not going to! You actually did cheat on me! And here we are, still together, because I believe that you won't do it again!"

Ivan paused. "I want you to come to bed now."

"No. I want to go to the bar. Then I'm going to Prussia's room, and then - "

"Excuse me? I hope you don't mind my interrupting." Another presence on the stairs. Jeez, so America couldn't finish a conversation with anyone?

"Nah, it's cool, Roddy. Oh, hey, I heard you dumped Lizzy, you OK?"

"I am fine. It was a long time coming. We are far better off as friends."

"Sure. So what's up?"

"Well, actually, I need to have a word with Ivan. A business matter, I'm sure you'll understand." Said Austria smoothly.

America shrugged. "Sure. I'm heading to the bar. See you two later."

* * *

America found England in a small booth in the far corner of the bar. He was surrounded by several shot glass and a couple of pint glasses.

"Hey, Iggy. Mind some company?"

"Sure. Knock yourself out." Sighed England. "Hey, is that whiskey? Pretty strong, for you."

America gave England a knowing look. "God knows I need it tonight."

England patted him on the shoulder in a slightly tipsy attempt at consolation. "Another fight with Ivan?"

"Yeah. Just...just don't - " Alfred took a long swig of whiskey – "think we're meant for each other any more, y'know?"

"Know the feeling." Agreed England, knocking back another shot of vodka.

"You're drinking vodka? That's not like you, Iggy."

"Meh. Need something strong."

"Rough night, huh?"

England nodded, his head sagging against America's shoulder. "Yeah...fuckin' France."

"You were fucking France? Well, there's a turn up for the books."

Arthur gave him a half-hearted slap on the arm. "No, you stupid...trying to insult the bloody frog."

Alfred wrapped his arm around Arthur's shoulder, giving it a squeeze. "I know. I know."

After another three whiskies, Alfred himself became far more glib than usual....

"Y'know, Arthur, I think we were stupid ever to break up in the first place, y'know? Y'know what I mean?"

"Sorta." Mumbled Arthur, hiding his red face behind a glass of scotch. He snuggled further into Alfred's neck, as Alfred placed that hand (that damn hand) on England's knee once again.

"It's like that song...._We shoulda never broke up, they're telling me that my heart won't beat again....let's just get back together..." _Arthur sang the song in question horrifically out of tune, but it nevertheless caused the hand on his knee to slowly begin to rise.

"Aw...you're so cute...your singin's pretty damn bad, baby...."

Arthur lightly moaned and shifted further into Alfred's embrace. "Alfred....am I completely wasted?"

Alfred shrugged. "Don't know. Don't think so. Can you think straight?"

Arthur whined, letting a wayward arm travel around Alfred's waist to cling to him. "Nope...haven't been thinking straight since the day I let you go...."

Alfred responded in kind, removing the hand that was currently mere inches from Arthur's vital regions and used it to grasp Arthur and pull him closer. "Then don't ever do it again." He whispered, his lips tantalizingly close. Arthur was fairly certain his heart had stopped beating in its chest.

"Alfred...I told you before not to do this again. How am I supposed to walk away from you now?"

Alfred closed his eyes, nudging Arthur's nose with his. "You're not."

He closed the distance between their lips, and it was like coming home. Their lips moved pliantly against each other, opening immediately to allow their tongues to caress each other. Arthur allowed himself to be pulled on to Alfred's lap so that he was straddling him. He moved his hands into Alfred's golden hair, his addiction to Alfred's taste, his delicious lips, returning all at once.

When they pulled apart Alfred was flushed, his lips pink and wet, and his hair was adorably ruffled. His hands were also very pointedly up Arthur's shirt.

"Arthur...come on. Let's go back to the house."

Arthur's heart was beating again, so fast he thought he might explode. "So...back to Ivan again?"

Alfred winced. "Don't mention him. No, what I meant was....let's go to a guest bedroom. And...you know."

Arthur's eyes widened. "You want to?"

Alfred flashed him one of his million-dollar smiles. "Yeah, I want to. Never wanted to stop, really. How could you possibly think I'd fallen out of love with you?"

"I hoped, I prayed that you hadn't." Arthur whispered, kissing Alfred between breaths, desperate to have as much as he could of his beautiful Alfred. His...

"You and I are meant to be together, Arthur. Everybody knows it, and we know it too."

"Yeah...." said Arthur, allowing himself to be hoisted on to his feet and dragged bodily back to the house.

Everything between the front door and the guest bedroom was a blur. Flattening his hair, wiping his lips, trying to un-ruffle his clothes, politely nodding to everyone they passed on the way to the guest bedroom, which seemed like a million miles away.

They were finally inside. Arthur had barely closed and bolted the door when Alfred was on him, practically ripping his clothes away, kissing at every part of naked skin he could get to, worshipping the body before him. Arthur's nails gripped into Alfred's back as he was lifted up and flung on to the bed, divested of his trousers and underwear.

Alfred was very quickly equally naked, and the two were kissing as though there were no tomorrow, grinding desperately into each other, trying to touch as much skin as possible. Alfred couldn't believe it had only been a month since they had last done this. It felt like fucking eternity.

He trailed sloppy kisses all the way down Arthur's chest, pausing to tease his nipples with his tongue, something Arthur had always been quite fond of, and that Alfred had not forgotten. Arthur moaned wantonly, gripping Alfred's hair and grinding upwards into Alfred's chest.

Alfred's hands slid up Arthur's legs, stopping when his palms were flat on the insides of Arthur's thighs. He gently pushed Arthur's legs apart, exposing him fully to his lover.

"Alfred...." moaned Arthur, as Alfred's tongue began the slow, tortuous journey up his thigh. "Alfred....don't....."

"Hm?" Alfred looked up. "Why not, Arthur?"

"Because, I..."Arthur blushed a deep pink right to the tips of his ears. "I don't think I can last, Al. I mean, it's been a month."

Alfred grinned. "Not been getting any?"

Arthur scowled. "All right for you. I just...don't think I'll be able to last much longer, Alfred...can't you just....y'know.." he finished lamely.

"What?" asked Alfred. "You're gonna have to ask, Arthur, I ain't gonna figure it out myself." He was lazily trailing his fingers up Arthur's hard cock, making Arthur gasp and moan with unbridled lust.

"You are such a little fucking tease...I want you inside me, all right? I want you to fuck me."

"Your wish?" grinned Alfred, inserting three fingers into Arthur's mouth, "My command."

"Ohh...Oh, Alfred..." Arthur's lust-fueled, hazy moans filled the room as Alfred thrust his fingers inside. It had been far, _far _too long since he'd done this.

"OK, Alfred. Now. I'm ready."

Alfred kissed him hard. "You sure?"

"Yeah, I'm sure, come on."

Alfred pushed himself inside so slowly it was like torture, kissing Arthur feverishly all the while. Before long, he was all the way inside. "You OK?" he breathed, noting Arthur's slightly pained expression.

"Fine. Just...please, move."

Alfred was only too happy to comply, beginning with shallow thrusts that turned very rapidly into quick, deep ones that made both Arthur and Alfred cry out so hard they both immediately became afraid someone would hear them.

"Alfred...I'm close...."

Arthur came with a shudder, seeing stars as he was brought to his release. Alfred soon followed suit, releasing himself inside Arthur with a low, breathy moan.

"That was...so fucking amazing, Arthur." Said Alfred with a grunt as he pulled and lay beside Arthur.

"I know." Said Arthur, burying his face in the crook of Alfred's neck. "I can't believe we did that."

"Arthur...we are back together, right? I mean, this wasn't just some stupid mistake we'll regret tomorrow morning, right?"

Arthur kissed Alfred on the lips, a deep, sensual kiss that they both felt deeply, through to their very bones. "Yes. Yes, we are. And I'll never be so stupid as to let you go again."

The two lovers fell asleep in each other's arms, both knowing they'd never felt better.

Morning came too soon for them both. Alfred awoke with a pounding headache and every expectation that the body in his arms was that of his boyfriend, Ivan. When he saw that it was Arthur, a feeling spread through his body unlike anything he'd felt before. He pulled Arthur closer and kissed him on the forehead.

"Morning, beautiful."

* * *

END OF CHAPTER TWLEVE

Yes, I referenced JLS. Don't judge me.

Well, there you have it, everyone's favourite golden couple are back together! Ah, come on, it was just a matter of time, right? Anywho, only one more chapter to go!! Look out for it, hopefully it won't be as long as this one was.

OH GOD I'm sorry about the rap. My talents do not lie in the sphere of rap composition.

By the way, that poker thing? True life story. It was AWESOME.

Is it totally obvious I'm rewatching season two of The OC?


	13. Chapter 13

A/N: Hey, something kinda cool: I got a request from a reader to use the rap from chapter 12 in a skit at Sakuracon! I was uber-flattered (and frankly surprised, didn't think my rap composition skillz were all that maddd) so if anyone goes, let me know how it is!

And once more, my profuse apologies for the lateness of this final chapter. I hope you will still enjoy it.

Chapter 13 - Forever

"_It's like I waited my whole life, for this one night...just gonna be me, you and the dancefloor...."_

"Alfred..." mumbled Arthur, shoving the pillow off his face as Alfred's phone loudly rang in his left ear. "If you must insist on keeping your phone on loud the entire night, you could at least have the decency to change your ringtone to something more acceptable."

"No!" Alfred grumbled, extricating himself from Arthur's very naked embrace. "Stop trying to foist your horrible punk bands on me, you." He playfully poked Arthur in the ribs as he made for his phone.

"Who is it?" asked Arthur, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes and dragging himself off the bed.

Alfred swallowed hard. "It's Ivan. He's probably wondering where I am."

Arthur was momentarily unsure of how to respond, if at all. "W-what are you going to tell him?"

"The truth." What else could Alfred say?

Alfred picked up the phone. "Hello?"

"_Alfred?"_

"Yeah, it's me, Ivan. What's up?"

"_What do you think is up? Where have you been all night? Do not lie to me, Alfred."_

"I....I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry, Ivan. I...please don't make me do this over the phone. Can I see you?"

"_If all you are going to tell me is that you have slept with Arthur, then you can tell me over the phone. I assure you I can handle it."_

"I swear, I never meant for it to happen. We were in the bar, and there was whiskey, and – and I'm _so _fucking sorry, Ivan."

"_So. Shall I take it that the two of you are back together, then?" _Ivan's tone was laced with ice and a quality that Alfred could not discern.

"Yes. Yes, we are. Please, Ivan, can we just talk about this later? I hate to do this on the phone."

"_We have nothing further to talk about. You are back together with him. The two of you are meant for each other, and everyone knows it, is that not so?"_

"Ivan, don't hang up, just, please wait - "

_Click. _

Arthur sat silently on the bed, waiting for Alfred to speak first. He sat beside Arthur, allowing himself to be pulled into a loose embrace.

"That's it, then. It's over. Between me and him."

"I'm sorry that you had to do that, Alfred. Truly, I am."

"You don't have to be. We're together again. That's all that matters."

_Is it? _Wondered Arthur with a sinking heart as he saw tears begin to form in the corner of Alfred's eyes.

Alfred felt that feeling, that as-yet unnamed feeling he had had when he woke up and found Arthur in his arms creep up on him once more. He could not put his finger on it. All he knew was, he felt ill. He needed to get out. And luckily, Austria's closing speech was due to start in ten minutes.

The two hurriedly dressed, both painfully aware that they had barely had a chance to talk things through since the events of the previous night, and rushed downstairs to the conference room.

* * *

No one was paying a shred of attention, unsurprisingly. Austria's speech was boring; Austria's speeches were _always _boring. There was nothing in them about guns, or dragons, or wizards, or breasts, or fast cars, or anything cool! Alfred was more than grim.

Although poor, dear Roderich's speech (it was the polar opposite of interesting! That's what it was!) wasn't...exactly..._entirely _to blame. Alfred had chosen the most inappropriate spot at the table, i.e. _right opposite Ivan. _

Ivan had categorically refused to speak to him before the meeting, despite his most concerted efforts. It was all made so much worse by the fact that people had been congratulating him and Arthur on their reunion all morning, very pointedly, and very publicly. It was like everyone was trying deliberately to hurt Ivan. It made Alfred so angry he was practically seeing red by the time he took his seat at the table. And the person was angriest at was himself. He had fucked this one up, no doubt about it. He wanted Arthur. He also wanted to disappear and go and live in a cave for the next ten years.

And now Ivan was sitting opposite him, perfectly composed, staring almost unnaturally rigidly at Austria, droning on in his monotonous voice, and Ivan was just sitting there, his expression unchanging, somehow looking both as if he were about to kill someone and about to cry.

Alfred's heart fucking _hurt. _

It was comfortable, though, when Arthur's fingers slid in between his. It was familiar.

And when Arthur's head nestled in the crook between his neck and shoulder, and his eyelids drooped, the familiar droop of a man who'd been up far, far too late for his own good, Alfred immediately stiffened. Ivan could _see._ See the betrayal in plain view.

Ivan only looked away from Austria once. Once, the entire speech.

Austria had been saying something about the importance of cooperation in these dangerous and difficult times.

"....and I realise that now, more so than ever, it is becoming increasingly difficult to see eye-to-eye with our peers. I myself would like to see the barriers that stop us from fraternising as countries torn down, that we may share together the spirit of friendship between nations."

It was at this line that Ivan stole a glance (_guilty. _He looked _guilty_) at France, of all the people. France, who really looked even more miserable than Ivan. Their eyes met, and Alfred knew what they were saying.

_We're out of luck. Maybe next time. Or maybe never. _

Austria was, as everyone was grateful to note, reaching the climax of his oration.

"And I would like to take this opportunity to thank each and every one of you for taking part in what I feel was a splendid conference. Laying personal matters aside" – Prussia snorted – "I truly feel that great strides have been made this weekend. I...I – "

Austria was beginning to stammer. Prussia yawned widely.

"I would like to say...just that...."

Prussia sniffed. "Say it. Come on, pansy, it's right there on your cue-card. Say your bit about how you think we all _worked admirably as a team _or how we're _for the most part, thoroughly capable representations of our great nations _or whatever. I'm getting bored as fuck, and I want a cookie."

Austria laid down his cue cards. "I would like to say the following." He snapped. "None of you worked admirably as a team. You were all dreadful. Lovino Vargas, you spent the whole weekend acting like a child, you almost murdered Ludwig, and don't think I don't know you've been sneaking food from the kitchens to that turtle!"

Spain practically mewled in delight and threw his arms around Romano. "Lovi! You _care_!"

Austria cleared his throat. "Elizaveta, you have been a spendthrift and an annoyance, through and through. Alfred, your relationship drama reminds me more of a character from The Hills than a world superpower."

Alfred brightened. "Hey, you know what The Hills is! You're cool, Roddy!"

"Most of you seem far more interested in playing Strip Poker than improving international relations!" Austria growled. "Belarus and Australia, you've done nothing but get caught in my coat closet all weekend – you'd think you could come up with somewhere different! Francis and Arthur, I have no wish to know what the two of you have been up to, but it damn sure wasn't what you should have been focusing on! And to cap it all off, that farcical _rap _yesterday made a complete mockery of the assignment!"

Everyone had been somewhat stunned into silence by this point.

"I'm starting to think there's really only one person here even worth giving a damn about." Snapped Austria.

By this point he was standing by the chair of a certain albino ex-nation, his arms folded, a raised blush on his cheeks.

Prussia grinned. "Some speech, Roddy. I didn't think you had it in you. What happened, your balls drop at last?"

"Something like that." Replied Roderich coolly.

Gilbert coughed. Stood up. Faced Roderich.

He spoke. "So. Roddy. Is this your way of saying "oh, Gilbert! Please forgive me, I've been such a silly girl!" ?"

"I told you that you weren't worth it. Didn't I?"

Gilbert shrugged. "Can't really remember your exact words. Not like I have the memory of that day permanently imprinted in my brain, or anything."

"I'm really such an idiot, Gilbert."

"I kind of want to hear you say what a silly girl you've been. Think that may help you on the whole getting-my-forgiveness front."

Roderich frowned. "Just because I ballsed it up a bit doesn't mean you get to make the rules, Weillschmidt. I want to make it very clear that you are still the fuckup and I am the rectifier of your foolish mistakes. Our roles are quite specifically defined."

"Anything else?"

"I am _not _a girl. Or a pansy. Or a fairy. Or a worse kisser than your mate Pete's great aunt Sally."

"And?"

"I refuse to come and pick you up if you get drunk, and pass out at one of the seedy bars you frequent."

"And?"

Roderich swallowed. "And.....I want you to make me chocolate cake."

"Huh?"

"And make me feel better when I've been working all day. And play you the song I've already written for you, you utter idiot."

Prussia gave Spain an absolutely _murderous _glare, but nodded for Roderich to carry on.

"And....Prussia...Gilbert. I want you to know. That. Um. You're worth it. To me. Worth the late night drunken phone calls, the constant bailing you out of prison, the...incident with the lawnmower and the mouse, the golf club fiasco, all of it. You're worth it. You're worth everything."

Prussia broke into a wide grin, giving Roderich a friendly, but rather hard, punch on the shoulder. "Now that's what I call a speech! That's what I'm talkin' about, am I right?" He leaned over to give America a brotherly fistbump.

"Gilbert!" spluttered Roderich. "You're supposed to....you know!"

Gilbert shrugged. "Oh yeah. Forgot."

He grabbed Roderich by the cravat and unceremoniously dragged him into a kiss. Roderich's lips parted for him almost instantly, and Gilbert's tongue caressed his with all the intensity he expected and more. Roderich's hands carded through Gilbert's hair, his tongue rubbing feverishly against Gilbert's. There were a number of wolf-whistles from the crowd, Roderich suspected mainly from Spain, France and Hungary.

They parted, only to look at each with the most genuine smiles anyone had ever seen either of them wear.

Gilbert took Roderich by the waist and pulled him close. "So, this is it, yeah? No more fucking around, this is real this time?"

Roderich could not think of any better answer than a sly nod and yet another delicious kiss. Bollocks to propriety, as Arthur would often say (when he had had more than enough Captain Morgan's), this only happened once in a lifetime. And only to people in movies. Sometimes not even then.

Alfred had a pretty dopey smile across his face as he looped his arm around Arthur and looked on at the kissing couple.

It was only as he looked away that he noticed Ivan was gone.

The feeling was back. That same feeling he had suppressed earlier that morning as he had first seen Arthur beside him in bed.

Guilt. Panic. Disgust.

* * *

"I don't know what to tell you, Mr. America," Lithuania was worrying his hands and shaking slightly, cowering a little in America's formidable presence. "His flight leaves in three hours, I think he was just wanted to be on time for check-in. I'll be seeing him back at the house, and I can ask him if you want, and - "

"No." Sighed America. "No, Toris, don't worry about it. Just....probably...leave him alone for a few days, OK? For your own safety."

America turned away from Lithuania, who was still shaking slightly. "Um. Mr. America?"

"Yes?"

"I know I have no right to ask you this, but...was it my fault?"

America exhaled. Paused.

"No. Of course it wasn't, Toris. It was mine. It always is."

* * *

Alfred and Arthur wandered deliriously up to their bedroom (because it was _their _bedroom now. Ivan had moved out and Arthur had moved in), their journey punctuated with messy kisses, Alfred's desperate hands on Arthur, all over Arthur, trying manically, almost, to devour him. He slammed the door and himself on to the bed, pulling Arthur on top of him.

Arthur had never been much of a one for sex in the middle of the day, but Alfred seemed unusually desperate. It wasn't that he was horny as hell, or anything. It was more than lust Arthur saw in Alfred's eyes. It was a painful longing. Arthur knew what it was. It was the utter desperation to make this right, whatever it took.

Arthur pulled helplessly at Alfred's shirt, trying to roll the pair over so that Alfred would be on top. To no avail. Alfred was much stronger than Arthur, and clearly was not so OK with that idea.

"Alfred, what is wrong with you?" Arthur winced, realising he'd spoken more harshly than he needed to.

"Nothing! I just....I wanted you to.... oh, I don't know. I want be on the bottom, OK? I want you to top. Just for a change, y'know? I mean, I almost always used to top, and now we're back together, I just think it would be nice if it was more equal!" Alfred was as red as one of Spain's tomatoes.

Alfred winced at the look on Arthur's face, the look that clearly said "_Do you really expect me to buy that?_". However, Arthur said nothing of the sort. With as much alacrity as he could muster, Arthur nodded his head once, almost imperceptibly.

Foreplay was evidently a thing of the past with the pair. Clothes were shed quickly, shaking hands fumbled with zips and buttons, Alfred pressed his mouth fiercely to Arthur's neck, kissing down his collarbone, eliciting gasps of pleasure from his lover. Soon the two were both naked.

Soon, they were spreading lubricant on Arthur's bony, wiry fingers. Fingers that extended from small hands. Skinny arms. Alfred's eyes raked over Arthur's torso, skinny, but always with a hint of lean muscle. The expected scars in the expected places. None on his neck, though.

Soon, Arthur was above Alfred, working him open with aforementioned wiry fingers. His lean body was barely a presence atop Alfred's sturdier build. Alfred pulled him down, pulled him closer _he wanted, he needed to feel the weight on top of him, to make him feel safe, he was so exposed _so Arthur's chest was bearing down on his own. But Arthur remained as light as ever.

He inserted a third finger, but barely registered a gasp from Alfred. When he deemed Alfred ready, he pulled them out, and applied a liberal amount of lubricant to his erect cock.

It had been so long since he had seen Alfred like this. He wanted to say that Alfred was wanton, lustful, spread out, beautiful beneath him with his legs splayed open, and an expression of unbridled desire on his gorgeous face. He couldn't. All he could say was that Alfred looked desperate. So desperate, he might have been in pain. His legs were parted, but slightly bent inwards at the knee, as though he were embarrassed. As though Arthur had not seen him like this a hundred times before.

As though the two were seeing each other nude for the very first time.

And in the clear light of day unashamedly bursting through the taunting slits in the curtains, both tried desperately to convince themselves they loved – were _in love_ – with what they saw.

"I'm ready." Alfred's tone was fast and needy. Arthur hitched Alfred's legs up until they were around his waist, grasped the head of his cock, and navigated his way into Alfred's tight body. It truly had been a while since Arthur had topped. He hoped he could remember everything that had once made Alfred scream his name in pleasure. He entered, and gripped Alfred's hips tightly as he pushed in slowly, trying to make it as comfortable as possible for Alfred.

"Come...on. Arthur. Faster. Do it faster." Was the command uttered, and Arthur felt compelled to obey. He thrust himself the rest of the way in, and remained still for a few moments, seated fully inside of Alfred.

"Arthur..." Alfred whined. "I don't...."

Arthur gently kissed Alfred's temple, brushing a few strands of golden blond hair out of his eyes. "What do you want, Alfred? Tell me. I'll do anything to give it to you. Anything."

"I..." A scene flashed in Alfred's mind. A lost shirt. A bitemark. The crack of a whip. A tormented cry in a distant room. A distressed Lithuanian man, banging on the door in terror. Trying to force the lock.

He could see it so clearly, the clear cracks of the whip on the skin, pure as the driven snow. The splitting of the skin, the welling of crimson rivulets of blood, reverential to the power of the whip.

Could hear broken words. "_I...I want you...to...to..."_

"I want you to make it as painful as possible."

* * *

Francis Bonnefoy was almost packed and ready to go. He slipped the last of his expensive dress shirts into his suitcase. He sighed, and shut the lid down, affixing the clasps. He sat, heavy, on the corner of the bed.

Not two hours previously, he had returned to his bedroom to pack. To find a note slipped under his door, a simple piece of white paper, folded neatly into four.

He knew who it was from before he had even picked it off the ground.

_Francis,_

_Please do not think I have forgiven you for what you tried to do to Alfred and I. However, as much as I have lost respect for you for your actions, I would still like to give you a piece of consolation. May your mind rest easy in the knowledge that not a single thing you and Arthur did to try and break us up had any bearing on the outcome of the situation. _

_I will ask you a question. Of course I do not expect you to write to me with the answer, I just want you to answer it to yourself. Do you believe in soulmates? Do you believe there is one perfect person out there for everybody? Is this a notion that you have grown up with? It is certainly a novel idea to me. _

_I want to believe, Francis, that people can fall in love. But to be predestined to be together? Does the idea not feel absurd to you? Perhaps I am simply not a romantic. But I can, and will, never believe that two people are meant for one another. _

_Forgive my digression. It really doesn't matter at all anymore. I am sorry for my rambling, I am feeling overwhelmed, and I have been told that to express my feelings on paper is an ideal way of dealing with them. I apologize for selecting you as the recipient of this letter, but I couldn't think of anyone else who could possibly understand. _

_Perhaps it is something that I did that made Alfred choose to despise me. I do not blame him for being angry with me for Toris. I did not expect him to forgive me so readily; I was simply grateful for his beautiful nature. So giving, so carefree. _

_I should have anticipated that it was nothing but a farce. Perhaps that is what our entire relationship was. _

_I must go. I could not possibly elucidate everything that I am feeling to you right now, and I am thinking that I have not even done a very good job with the less fine points, no?_

_I have a plane to catch. I hope the rest of the meeting goes well (and I wish your friend Roderich good luck with dear Prussia) __and I_

_I am so very sorry about Arthur. _

_Ivan. _

Francis had read the letter through three times in the course of his packing. He was glad that Ivan did not seem so very upset, but he supposed Ivan was trying to be strong for the sake of Toris and the others. It was a shame. Ivan had been so steadily improving. Alfred had been such a positive force in his life.

Francis shook his head. That was not enough for love. Love was indefinable. Tinged simultaneously with fear and security, freedom and comfort. A heart warmed, and a heart broken. Alfred and Arthur had love. Perhaps what Alfred and Ivan had was no more than therapy.

Francis shook, falling to his knees, dimly aware of tears falling down his cheeks.

He crumpled the letter in his left hand, and spoke. "Why? What _happened_?"

"Would you like me to tell you?" came a voice from the doorway. "I can give a thoroughly detailed explanation of the whole blasted afternoon, if you must have it."

Francis turned his head, his eyes widened.

* * *

Alfred's eyes were closed. Arthur had first noted the fact with surprise, very quickly followed by shame. When was the last time Alfred had wanted to close his eyes during sex? He was always berating Arthur for doing so. Alfred told him all the time how beautiful his green eyes were, and he said he wanted to see them while they made love.

Arthur contemplated asking Alfred to open his eyes, but thought better of it. He pressed on. He thrust into Alfred as hard as he could, trying desperately to be what Alfred wanted him to be.

"Arthur..." Alfred whispered. "Scratch."

Arthur whimpered, clasping Alfred's hips in his sweaty hands. "Scratch what, Alfred?"

"Me. On the chest. As hard as you can."

"I don't want to hurt you, Alfred."

"Just...please! I'm begging you, Arthur."

Arthur let out a tiny sob, releasing Alfred's hips and trying to scratch his way down Alfred's torso. His nails were bitten, his hands were clammy. He tried as hard as he could to sink his nails into Alfred's chest, but he only ended up with angry pink scratch marks trailing downwards. Alfred's body refused to bleed for him.

"Bite."

Arthur did not need telling twice. He sank his teeth into Alfred's collarbone, suckled the sweaty patch of skin, trying to elicit the same moans from Alfred that had once driven him crazy. He couldn't. He couldn't bear to hurt him. He stopped applying pressure despite Alfred's desperate groans of "harder...harder!"

He continued to plant nips and kisses along Alfred's collar and chest, stopping to suckle gently on one of Alfred's nipples. He took the hard nipple between his teeth, tugging gently. Alfred let out a small sigh of what Arthur jolly well hoped was pleasure and began to rock against Arthur once again, deliberately contracting his muscles so as to make Arthur cry out in wanton pleasure.

Alfred's eyes remained resolutely shut. In fact, when Arthur's small hands gripped at his hips once more he squeezed them shut even tighter than before.

Alfred was losing himself in sensation behind the blank curtain of his closed eyelids. He was nowhere near this room, this bed, this beautiful man above him.

He focused on the feelings. The feeling of Arthur's teeth...no. No, just _teeth_ on his nipple, hands on his hips. The hands on his hips were larger. They grasped him firmly. They were not shaking. The weight on his chest increased. There were broad shoulders above him. He felt secure. He felt a soft breath on his ear as his lover nipped at his earlobe. Snowy hair flicked onto Alfred's face. It smelt of freshly cut flowers.

Arthur began to whine above him, and Alfred opened his eyes. The hands on his hips were small, clammy and trembling once more. Arthur's face was contorted in pleasure, and Alfred could tell Arthur was close. He increased the pace of his thrusts, and Alfred rocked back in response, wanting to make it good for Arthur, at least. He resolutely ignored the fact that he was becoming less and less aroused.

Arthur came, suddenly and without warning. Alfred felt the hot liquid enter him in spurts and Arthur spasmed and jerked above him, thrusting slower and slower, riding out the last of his orgasm. He glanced down at Alfred lovingly, to notice, and register with some surprise that Alfred was still mostly hard.

"Al...you didn't come yet? Sorry, let me take care of you." Arthur began to thrust again, insofar as he could, having just come, and wrapped his hand around Alfred's cock, trying to keep his pumping at pace with his determined thrusts.

Alfred closed his hand around Arthur's. "Please." He whispered. "Stop."

Arthur raised his eyebrows. "But - "

"No, Arthur. Just...it's fine. I wasn't trying to get off. I just wanted it to be good for you. I just wanted to make you happy, Arthur. That's all I wanted."

Arthur nodded. He took his time pulling out of Alfred, and lay gently on the bed beside him.

Alfred did not move an inch. Nor did he attempt to cuddle with Arthur, which was his usual post-sex behaviour.

Arthur smiled wanly, and after an interval of what felt like an hour, spoke at last. "Go."

Alfred stiffened. "Go?"

"Yes." Replied Arthur calmly. "Judging by my watch, you have precisely one hour and fifty-seven minutes before his flight leaves. If you leave now you still have the chance to catch him."

Alfred's heart suddenly felt like it was beating right out of his chest. "I don't understand."

"Yes, you do." said Arthur, resigned, flashing a weary smile at Alfred across the bed. "You want to go to him. You need to go to him. You need to go to him and tell him how silly you've been. Tell him how much you love him and how much you need him to be with you. All the sort of tripe you get in your silly films about boys running after girls at the airport, or that last episode of _Friends_."

"After all this – you _want _me to leave you? Again? I – I thought you said you made a mistake breaking up with me!"

Arthur shook his head. "My mistake was being blind to what was right in front of my eyes the whole time. I was so wrapped up in the idea of winning you back that I never considered what was best for you. I was so convinced by everyone's telling me that, yes, we _were _meant to be together. We're America and England. We have the Special Relationship, right?"

America looked confused. "Right."

"Well, what if we were wrong the whole time? What if we were so blinded by the ideas fed to us by these stupid movies and telly programmes about a love that was "meant to be"? What if there isn't even any such thing?"

"You don't think we were ever meant to be?"

"And nor do you. Deep down." Replied Arthur.

"I...I know."

"I know why your eyes were closed. I know what you were thinking about. I know I'm a lot shorter, a lot lighter, and a whole lot less Russian than you like. Don't think I don't know, boy." Grinned Arthur.

Alfred managed a weak smile. "I really tried, Arthur. I really tried to make myself feel that way about you again. But it's too late. And I think it's too late for you, too."

Arthur nodded, allowing Alfred his chance to speak.

"It's just – everything with Ivan was so crazy, and I wasn't sure if I could handle it, on top of everything else. I just wanted a piece of normalcy back, I guess. And then _you _came along, and you were so gorgeous, and you wanted me back. I was a bit of an idiot. I mean, of course I still care about you. Feelings like that don't just disappear overnight. And of course I slept with Ivan to try and forget about you. But – I just...I just got swept off my feet. In a way I didn't even think was possible."

Arthur coughed. "And I tried to wreck it. God, Alfred, I'm so sorry. I feel dreadful."

Alfred smiled. "Nah, it's OK. To be honest, I knew what you were doing. You and Francis aren't exactly subtle, are you?"

Arthur's eyes widened. "You knew? And yet you still - "

"Yeah well, I knew your intentions were good, if not exactly honourable. In your situation, to be honest, I'd probably have done the same thing."

Arthur paused. "Ivan knew."

Alfred nodded. "I know."

"And he didn't tell you."

"I guess he wanted me to decide for myself who I wanted to be with."

"Hn." Was Arthur's eloquent response.

"Guess I really kinda dropped the ball on that one, huh?"

Arthur gave him a playful shove on the arm. "I see you're finally getting your spirits back up."

And his trousers – Alfred was by this time nearly fully clothed. "Well. As long as you're OK, I guess I better shoot off. Can't be hanging around when there's a cliché movie-style ending to be had, can I?"

Arthur laughed. "No, I suppose not."

"Listen, Arthur." Alfred sat at the edge of the bed. "Can I ask you something?"

"Go ahead."

"If – if you hadn't broken up with me in the first place, if you and I had never – you know - "

"Yes, Alfred, I know. If I had never broken up with you, yes, it might have worked out between the two of us. But that would have been wrong. I'm not what you really want, or what you need. Yes, we might have happy for a very long time, ignorant of the lives we could have been having. But for what it's worth, I'm very glad I did break up with you that day. As much hassle as this whole situation has caused, it turned out for the best, I think. I made the right decision that day after all."

Alfred had, by this time, put on his jacket, stuffed his keys and money into his pockets and was worriedly running a comb through his hair.

"Arthur – look, listen – are you gonna be OK?"

Arthur nodded, smiling mildly. "You know what? I think I am."

"You – you have someone else, too, right?"

Arthur grimaced. "God help me, I think I do."

That was all Alfred needed. He gave Arthur a peck on the cheek, and, barely waiting for Arthur to wish him good luck, was out the door.

* * *

He found her outside on the backyard porch. Austria had invested in a bench swing, and she swung back and forth, almost childlike, a cigarette dripping gracelessly from her lips. He didn't even know she smoked.

"I took it up about two weeks ago." She said out loud.

Gilbert stepped out of the shadows, an uncharacteristic guilty flush on his face. "Sorry." He muttered.

"Nah, it's cool. You want one?"

Gilbert shook his head. "I quit. For, um...you know. I mean. He hates it."

"I know." She replied mildly.

"Why did you do it, Eliza?"

"Why d'ya think? Because I'm a selfless, wonderful philanthropist whose one and only goal in life is to make people who piss me off no end ridiculously, stupidly happy."

"Eliza."

"Fine, you got me, I did it for the mansex, OK!"

"That's better. Close, but no dice."

Elizaveta sighed. "I did it because I'm so sick of seeing Roderich have to settle for second best. I could see that you two loved each other, and because I had this irrational desire to make you miserable, I ignored the signs that were right in front of my face."

Gilbert took a seat next to her on the swing. "I'm right in saying that you heard me and Francis that day in Paris, right?"

Elizaveta had the grace to blush. "Yeah. I knew for sure then. I resolved pretty much immediately to do something about it then. At first I was just going to break up with him, but I figured he'd be hurt, and if it ever got back to him that you were the reason I dumped him, you two would never end up together. So I got him to dump me first."

"You played your hand well, I gotta admit. You do know he probably knew the whole time what you were doing?"

She shrugged. "Probably. I don't care. He knows I did it for the right reasons. You both do."

"Yeah." Muttered Gilbert.

"So, you're really into him, aren't you?"

Gilbert flashed a wicked grin. "Hell yes I am. Unfortunately for me. And him. Things are gonna get pretty interesting from now on. Hope you'll stick around to see it all fall apart, and get put back together again, except all the wrong way round?"

Hungary shrugged. "Sure. Why not?"

"Unless you're busy with your latest flavour of the week?"

"You know, I think I'll stay single for a while. No point having someone just for the sake of it. I'd like to have ....just...more freedom for a while, I guess."

"While I, Gilbert the Awesome, become totally whipped!"

Hungary grinned. "If you mean that literally...can I watch?"

* * *

It was absolutely nothing like in the movies. Being real life, this was hardly surprising. Alfred would at least have expected it to be more spectacular than it was, after all, they were _nations, _not boring old regular humans!

But alas. The drive to the airport was uneventful. Alfred took his Jeep. The drive to Vienna International Airport was quiet and calm. The roads weren't all that busy, it being a Sunday afternoon.

Alfred did not have to buy a ticket or any of that foolishness when he got to the airport, because a ticket was only needed to board the aircraft. The departure lounge was accessible to anyone.

Alfred checked the large electronic departure board, and saw that the next flight to Moscow left in one hour and thirteen minutes. He made a mental note of the correct gate number, and began to make his way there.

He had at least sort of hoped that he would arrive with only minutes to spare, and would be able to run and catch Ivan just as he was boarding the aircraft. Alas.

He held out a final shred of naive expectation that the departure lounge would be massive, and swarmed with people, and he would have to push through the crowd until he finally saw that elusive head of fine, snowy hair, and he would push the bystanders out of the way, and sweep Ivan into his arms.

No such luck. The departure lounge was quite small. And there really were not that many people there. There was a mother, with two small blond boys who were playing tag while she read a glossy magazine. An elderly couple sat in one corner, sharing a pear and talking, relaxed. A man in a business suit in approximately his forties talking in hushed tones on his cell phone. A pair of twenty-something lovers, hands intertwined, whispering goodbyes in undertones. And in the far corner, flicking through a thick hardback book – Ivan.

Alfred suddenly found himself nervous. The departure lounge was awfully quiet, and most of the occupants were now staring at him suspiciously. He found his embarrassment rising and purposefully made towards Ivan, standing beside him, and waited for Ivan to respond to his presence.

Ivan did not look up from his book. "Alfred." He commented mildly, still not looking up. "I did not expect you for at least" – he glanced at his watch – "another hour. Surely, for you, this is rather under-dramatic?"

Alfred sputtered, words rising in his chest but getting caught in his throat.

"Take a seat, Alfred, people are looking."

Alfred did as he said.

"Now, Alfred, while I'm sure you have a lovely speech prepared - "

"I don't. I really, really fucking don't, Ivan, just _please_, for the love of God, let me talk. I need to talk to you, I need you to listen to me."

"I never said I wouldn't listen."

"Ivan. I've – God, I've been _such _a fucking idiot. I can't even begin to tell you how sorry I am. I have made so many mistakes with you, and I can't possibly expect you to forgive me. I made this way more fucked up than it needs to be, when all you really need to know is you make me so happy it makes me fucking crazy just to think about you. To be apart from you for even a day messes me up. And I know I can't expect you to take me back after what I did, and I know it's gonna be difficult sometimes, but if, if there's any way you could give me another chance...."

"Alfred." Alfred looked up at Ivan, and was shocked to see that he was smiling. "You really do love to make everything so difficult, do you not?"

Alfred spluttered. "M-me? After Thursday, you – you!" Alfred laughed out loud, and at this point it was hard to tell whether from genuine amusement or slight hysteria.

"Alfred, calm down. I've been doing some thinking over the past couple of days, and I really think if we just take it slow, start over, we will be fine. Not that I am not enjoying your feeble explanations and overt panic."

"_Feeble! _I'll show you - "

"Although, I must admit, I did feel that lovely stirring in my chest when you told me how happy I make you."

Alfred broke out in a wide grin. "R-really? You did?"

"Indeed." Ivan smiled. "And I'd like to think you know that I feel the same way about you. And always have."

"Ivan...."

"And while I do not know exactly what happened between yourself and Arthur - "

"We broke up, we did, it's totally over, for good this time."

" - I am certain that at this point it hardly matters."

Alfred felt a blush rising to his cheeks. "Ivan....I really, really wish I could kiss you right now, but I kind of think it would be inappropriate in front of all these people..."

And so Alfred and Ivan did not kiss. There was absolutely no romantic reunion kiss at all. There was further discussion of how their relationship was to progress, and how they should deal with it should it fall apart (though Alfred, and secretly Ivan, were both convinced it never would).

And finally, to a discussion of Ivan's impending Moscow-bound flight.

"Well." Smirked Ivan. "I must say, I'm feeling much more like a holiday than I was when I purchased my ticket. But I don't suppose a busy country such as yourself can afford to take time off, can you?"

Alfred leaned closer to Ivan and grinned back. "I might be able to wangle it."

"But it shall be awfully cold for a holiday in Moscow."

"I hear Paris is lovely this time of year....."

And that was that.

* * *

_Paris, France. Four days later. _

"Yes, and like I told you, they're both very happy."

Alfred smiled and swung his hand, which was intertwined with Ivan's as they strolled down the busy Paris street. "That's great. I'm so happy for Toris. He and Feliks really deserve to be happy, they're been through some shit, so this is awesome. Is he moving out of your place, then?"

Ivan shook his head. "Not for a little while. My house is bigger than Feliks', and Toris wants to stay on. I told him it would be fine. After all, I shall be staying with you for a little while, yes?"

Alfred nodded, planting a firm kiss on Ivan's lips. "Hell yeah you will."

Just then, Ivan noticed that his phone was ringing yet again.

"Don't answer it, Vanya...you've been on the phone with those guys most of the morning."

"Hush, darling. Go and window shop. I must take this call." He slipped his hand free of Alfred's, allowing him to wander towards an expensive-looking French boulangerie.

Alfred revelled in the delightful smell of freshly cooked baguettes, occasionally stealing glances at his boyfriend (and how _wonderful _it felt to be able to say that again), smiling like an idiot to himself, much as he had been the entire trip.

The two nations had spent most of the trip so far, frankly, getting thoroughly reacquainted between the sheets, with the occasional trip out to a fancy restaurant or to shop in Paris' upmarket shopping districts. Ivan had heard from his boss and a number of worried nations, Natalia and Toris among them. Alfred grinned saucily at the memories of the previous night – Ivan had taken him out for a meal, followed by a private trip to the top of the Eiffel Tower. The two had returned back to the hotel room, and after sitting out together on the balcony, watching the stars (and indulging the passion they both shared for astronomy) had proceeded to make thoroughly inappropriate use of said balcony. Alfred shivered in delight at the memory of Ivan's firm hands on his body, his lips grazing his skin, and his –

"Alfred!"

Damn. And such a nice fantasy he'd been having. Never mind. It'd likely be a reality again in merely a few hours.

"Who was it?"

Ivan was looking dumbfounded. "Katyusha. It was my sister, Katyusha."

"Ukraine was on the phone? What'd she say? Is it bad? What's happened, Ivan?"

Ivan shook his head. "Not bad. Good. Very good."

Alfred stamped his foot impatiently. "Well, what?"

"My sister is getting married."

Alfred eyes widened, his hands dropping to his sides in astonishment. "You mean - "

"Yes. My sister and your brother are engaged to be married."

Alfred broke out into a brilliant smile, throwing his arms around Ivan and kissing him full on the lips. "This is so awesome! Oh man, you go, Mattie! Oh, that's just so frickin' great!"

"It is rather nice. I think that young man is a good influence on my sister. She and he will have an excellent marriage, I think."

"Yeah, my brother does totally kick ass. Only because he's related to me, of course."

Ivan smirked. "Of course." He said softly, edging closer and stealing a kiss. Which Alfred proceeded to deepen, throwing his arms around Ivan and pulling him close. God, he swore he was actually addicted to the taste of this man's lips.

"And just think!" exclaimed Alfred excitedly. "Maybe next Belarus will get engaged to Australia!"

Ivan visibly paled. "Please do not say things like that. Imagine the children."

Alfred did not speak, he simply grabbed Ivan's hands and pulled him around the next corner.

Only to gasp in unbridled excitement.

"Alfred, please do not squeeze my hand quite so – what on earth is the matter with you, Alfred!"

Alfred was not to be calmed. "Look! _Look!_ Over there, at that cafe! Look who it is!"

Sure enough, sitting outside a small, rather kitsch-looking coffee shop, hands intertwined, gazing at each other over steamy cups of coffee and tea, were Francis and Arthur.

Alfred wibbled in joy. "They – they ended up together. I'm so ridiculously happy right now! All is right with the world at the moment, I swear to God. Look, look how _happy _they are. Is that not just the cutest thing you've ever seen? Look how sweet they are to each other when they think that no one's watching!"

Indeed, Alfred's point was proved as he made it, as Francis swept in for a peck on the cheek, while England looked away, blushing slightly. After which he promptly proceeded to brush Francis' bangs out of his eyes as he pulled him in for a gentle kiss on the lips.

And then of course, the moment was slightly ruined when Francis' hand _accidentally _made its way into England's trousers, and England's hot tea _accidentally _made its way into Francis' lap. Ivan and Alfred laughed.

"God, those two never change, do they? They look super-happy though. This is awesome!"

"That it is, love." Ivan replied as he slipped his hand into Alfred's.

"Hey Ivan. Let's be totally cliché and walk off into the sunset together. Can we, can we please?"

Ivan laughed. "Yes, dearest, if you can tell me at what time and in what direction the sun sets."

Alfred sniffed. "Fine. Be that way. I don't need the stupid sunset to be dopey and romantic with you."

For which Ivan was tremendously grateful as Alfred pulled him into another tantalising kiss.

The two wrapped their arms around each other and crossed the street. As Arthur was paying for another tea and Alfred was excitedly pointing out items in the shop window, Ivan caught Francis' eye. The two exchanged a casual nod as Ivan pondered if it this whole romantic week in Paris thing was just a bit too _normal _for them. As Francis smiled and turned back to Arthur, gazing adoringly at him, Ivan decided he didn't much care.

All was most _definitely _right with the world.

* * *

The End.

* * *

A/N: Um. Kinda hoping everyone who wanted this to end USUK isn't out for my blood right now. I know. I was misleading in the summary. Deliberately misleading. Sorry. I just really wanted the relationship between Ivan and Alfred to change people's minds about how this should end over the course of the story. And if I did that for even one person, I'll be happy.

Thank you all for reading, putting up with me and my sporadic updating, and leaving all your wonderful feedback.


	14. Apologia

**Apologia**

OK. Where to begin. I never really do this, and I'm sorry for spamming those of you who have no wish to hear it. I know chapters consisting of author's notes are against the rules, and I promise I will delete this chapter after a while, I just really felt like I had to say something.

I'm really, really sorry. Like, SO sorry. I made a grave mistake with this fanfiction in my choice (yes, it was a choice, not an accidental omission, I admit that) not to make it very clear from the beginning what the ending was going to be. I was silly, really, because I never attracted the people who would appreciate the end, and I alienated my readers. In the end, my childishness and love of surprises did me absolutely no favours.

When I received the reviews that I have, I at first tried to convince myself that I didn't care. That the disappointment of my readers was incidental to me, and all that mattered was that no one said my actual writing was of poor quality. I was lying to myself. Of course I care about the opinions of my readers and reviewers. It does hurt me that I have upset people, because that was honestly never my intention.

I never believed that so many people would have been so upset, and for that I'm truly sorry. It's not the fact that I have received negative comments (although, for the most part, I don't think of them as being actually negative, per se) that upsets me, it's the feeling that I hurt people. It was my error to not tag the fanfiction correctly (although I would like to make the point that generally, it is unfair to expect the two main characters listed to end up as a couple – that is not the way the character tags work on here) but I realise that I was in the wrong. It was also my error to imply in the summary that America and England would end up back together. I suppose I just had the foolish, naive, childish hope that I could use my writing and my characterisation to change people's minds about how the fanfic should end – I knew people were going to be disappointed and yet I did it anyway.

Although I really do appreciate each and every one of your comments, I would like to especially show my gratitude and appreciation to the following:

a. Those of you who gave me kind and sympathetic comments, even if you were disappointed by the end.

b. Those of you who were mature enough to realise that it was silly and unnecessary to overreact – it is only fanfiction, after all.

c. Those of you who appreciated that I made the right decision for the fic. It means the world to me that I made even a few people happy.

I really hope I haven't completely alienated you guys. I really hope that, if you enjoy my writing style and thought that the fic was well-written, you'll continue to look out for my work. I promise I won't be making this mistake again! And although I have taken the decision to, for the most part, stick to my OTP (Russia x America, of course) as the pairing for America, I hope you might be able to find something in my future work to enjoy. At the moment I'm working on a PrusAus (with Spamano and FrUK) Gakuen AU.

I know we're not all adults here, but I am, and I wouldn't be able to forgive myself if I had acted like a petty child over this. I try to be pretty relaxed about fanfiction, and I'd never hold a grudge against any individual, or the USUK fandom in general (which I am still proud to call myself a part of) because of this little episode. But the opinions of my readers are really so important to me, and as a general rule, I find people in the Hetalia fandom mature, intelligent and sensible. This hasn't changed my opinion on that, don't worry.

I'm really sorry to have wasted your time with this, but I wouldn't have been able to set my mind at rest if I hadn't said I was sorry. I've been in the Hetalia fandom for nearly a year, it's one of the best things I have in my life, and I would be so upset if everyone thought I was some kind of evil, manipulative, lying bitch. I'm really not, and I'm so sorry for giving you all so much evidence to the contrary!

Thank you if you managed to sit through my rambling, fumbling, passive-aggressive excuse for an apology. Just know that I really do mean it.


End file.
